


The Camping Trip

by dS_Tiff



Category: due South
Genre: Camping, Crime Solving, Drama, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 06:33:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dS_Tiff/pseuds/dS_Tiff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser and RayK decide to take a long weekend and go camping. Ray really wants Fraser to talk to him about Victoria and Ray needs to talk about Stella. However, they almost don't get chance when a crime occurs and a family are in desperate need of their help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Camping Trip

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set towards the end of Season 3/4 of due South, It is set after my previous story 'It Started With A Visit To The Dentist' although it's not really a sequel. I hope you enjoy it.

“Are you sure you need all of these bags, Ray, we're only going for three nights?” Constable Benton Fraser was standing in the apartment of his best friend and unofficial partner, surveying the huge pile of things that Ray seemed insistent would be vital for their camping trip. “Apart from the tent, my guitar and the fishing equipment, I only have this.” Fraser held up a single rucksack, with his bedroll strapped underneath it.

During work hours, Ray Kowalski was known as Detective Ray Vecchio as part of his current undercover assignment at the 27th Precinct, Chicago PD, but this weekend they were off duty. Ray could be himself for four whole days and he'd been really looking forward to it. Lieutenant Welsh and Inspector Thatcher had both agreed that their respective subordinates could take the extra days and Fraser had arranged a place for them to camp. It was a farm belonging to the cousin of a man he and Ray Vecchio had helped a while back. Lyndon Buxley was breeder of rare poultry and his cousin Milford Buxley owned a smallholding a few hours drive outside of Chicago. He was more than happy to let Fraser pitch a tent on his land for a few nights.

“Fraser,” Ray began, “I just wanna be prepared, y'know, like the, er, the Boy Scouts.” Fraser knelt down and began rummaging through one of Ray's bags.

“That's an excellent idea Ray, but why do you need ten pairs of socks?” Fraser pulled out each pair that Ray had packed and put them in a neat line on the floor.

“Well y'see Fraser, I need to put all of those in so that way I got more chance of finding a matching pair to wear,” replied Ray.

“You mean none of these pairs that you have balled together actually match?” enquired Fraser, as he began unrolling some of them and looking at them in disbelief.

“Er no, Fraser,” replied Ray, “C'mon, I'm a cop! I'm livin' on the edge here, danger could be right around the corner, when have I got time to worry about socks?”

Fraser shook his head and set about finding Ray just enough matching pairs to last for their long weekend. He handed Ray the left over socks. Ray took them from him, turned around and threw them onto the sofa. Sometimes Fraser wondered how his partner ever got through the day.

Fraser managed to persuade Ray to leave behind a few more items and they loaded their luggage into the GTO. Soon, with Diefenbaker curled up on the back seat, they were leaving the city behind and heading out into the countryside. Ray had selected some cassette tapes for them to listen to as they drove along and Fraser concluded that his friend had a surprising variety of tastes when it came to music. He made a mental note to lend Ray a few items from his own, albeit rather small, music collection.

“You were right Fraser,” began Ray, “this is a great road for driving. This baby hasn't had a workout like this for far too long.” He patted the dashboard affectionately. Fraser had never understood the emotional attachments that people seemed to have for their cars. He respected it, but didn't understand it. To him, a vehicle was simply a means of getting from one place to another. Ray Vecchio had owned a classic Buick Riviera (actually he had owned a few, after they kept meeting with untimely ends) and Ray Kowalski had owned this car since he was a boy and had spent hours with his father restoring it. Fraser assumed it was more to do with the memories tied up with the vehicle in question, rather than the vehicle itself, which invoked such strong feelings for it's owner.

Fraser was uncharacteristically quiet for most of their journey. The road stretched out ahead of them and Fraser mainly looked out of the window at the view, only occasionally pointing out an interesting tree or cloud formation or some other thing that Ray wasn't really interested in.

It had been Ray's idea to go camping with Fraser in the first place, they both agreed that they needed to get out of the city for a while. They'd both had some difficult things to cope with over the last few years and Fraser in particular, had been dwelling on his problems for far too long so Ray had insisted that while they were away from everything and everyone they would have those difficult conversations that they'd been avoiding. He hoped that just getting Fraser to talk would, at least in part, help him to come to terms with some things from his past. Ray himself never really had a problem opening up and he always felt better after a friendly chat with his buddy. He just hoped he could return the favour.

This weekend wasn't going to be all about that, though. They wanted to relax and have a bit of fun. He and Fraser were going to go fishing and sing songs round the camp fire and all that stupid stuff, thought Ray. Well Fraser can do the singing, he thought, maybe I'll just stick to ghost stories.

xXx

They decided to stop for lunch at a roadside diner. Dief was getting restless and Ray hadn't had a chance to eat much for breakfast, what with all the packing and he was getting desperate for coffee. Fortunately, this place had a decent coffee machine, although Fraser wondered why that mattered at all to Ray as he immediately loaded his cup with a handful of confectionery. Thank goodness Diefenbaker had remained outside otherwise he'd be begging Ray for treats and embarrassing himself, thought Fraser.

The waitress returned quickly with their meals. “Thank you kindly” said Fraser, smiling.

The waitress replied with, “If there's anything else you need, anything at all, I'm right over there.” She pointed to the counter and smiled coyly, fluttering her eyelashes, which of course was completely lost on Fraser.

Ray rolled his eyes. “How do ya do that Fraser?” he asked.

“Do what?” Fraser looked puzzled. Ray shook his head.

“What is that you're, um, you're eatin' anyway?” Ray went on.

“It's salad Ray,” replied Fraser. Surely his friend knew what salad was, he thought. Ray sneered and plunged another French fry into his pot of ketchup. They chatted as they ate, trying to decide what to do tomorrow. Ray really wanted to go fishing, something he'd never done before, but Fraser had a feeling that Ray was going to find it boring. Fraser himself loved fishing. He often used it as a time for reflection and contemplation, but Ray was not really very good at either of those things. It might be an opportunity for some of this talking that we're meant to be doing though, thought Fraser. “OK then Ray, tomorrow is fishing day.”

Ray was sipping at his second cup of coffee when he noticed that Fraser seemed a little distracted. “What is it?” asked Ray, putting his coffee cup down.

Fraser looked back at Ray and leaned across the table slowly. “Ray,” he said, in a low voice, “do you have your boot gun?”

Ray didn't need his instincts to know that something was wrong. “Yeah” he replied. He hadn't brought his other gun because he was off duty this weekend, but something had made him slip his back up gun into his boot at the last minute. “What's going down Fraser?” He slowly reached down and retrieved his weapon, bringing it carefully up onto his knees.

“I'm not sure yet,” replied Fraser, his eyes were again focussed over Ray's shoulder and all of his senses were working overtime, trying to process the situation.

“Tell me what we got,” prompted Ray, every muscle in his body had tensed.

“To your left there is a family sat at the table in the corner with two teenage children, a boy and a girl.” Fraser began, “the mother is becoming increasingly agitated and the father keeps looking over his shoulder towards the counter. Immediately behind them is a young couple, who I believe are not involved in any way. Then at the table over your right shoulder are a man and a woman together with another older man whom I believe to be the younger man's father, judging by the similarities in their facial bone structure. They have exchanged several glances with both the mother and father at the corner table. They have a large holdall with them, the contents of which I am unable to establish. They have gone to great pains to disguise their identities and look inconspicuous by continuing to read the menu, even though they already have their food.”

Ray was taking this all in and forming a mental picture. “Which of course makes them look very, um, conspic, er, consipic...”

“Conspicuous Ray,” Fraser finished, “Precisely. The waitress who served us and another older waitress have been trying to look busy by repeatedly cleaning the same area of counter top and there is a young waiter who keeps looking through the serving hatch from the kitchen side. I believe he is waiting for a signal, but to what end, I have yet to determine.”

“OK Fraser,” said Ray, who was starting to get a little jumpy, “you take the family, I'll go see about ordering some more coffee.”

“Understood.” Fraser slowly got up from the table, picking up his hat and placing it on his head as he did so and began to walk towards the other table. Ray tucked his gun into the waistband of his jeans and headed towards the counter. Fraser extended his hand to the father who was looking over his shoulder again. “Good afternoon,” he began. The man jumped and looked at Fraser, slightly taken aback. He quickly accepted the handshake. “My name is Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I couldn't help but notice, er, that is, I was wondering...” Fraser's train of thought was interrupted by the three people from the other table who had all now got to their feet and were walking towards the family. Fraser looked at Ray, who had his hand on his gun. He nodded to Fraser. He turned back to see the waitress give a hand signal through the serving hatch. Neither Ray nor Fraser were exactly sure what was going on, but they were both on high alert and ready for anything, although they certainly didn't expect what happened next.

At that moment, the door from the kitchen was flung open and hit the wall with a crash. Ray drew his gun and Fraser instinctively stepped in front of the two children. Ray pointed his gun towards the young waiter who had stepped through the door. “Police, freeze!” yelled Ray.

Fortunately for Ray, his shout was drowned out by a simultaneous shout of “Surprise!” followed by a rousing chorus of “Happy Birthday to you...” sung by the family, the waiting staff and the three people from the other table, as the waiter carried a huge birthday cake, complete with sparkler candles, towards a now very embarrassed teenage girl.

Fraser immediately stepped to one side and looked, slightly bemused, at Ray who had quickly put his gun away.

“Uncle Eric, Aunt Sammy, Grandpa!” the girl stood up and flung her arms around the three other people who had produced brightly wrapped presents and cards from the holdall. “You came all this way!”

“We couldn't miss your sweet sixteen now, could we honey?” replied the older man.

“Happy Birthday Miss,” Fraser managed to splutter, rather sheepishly.

Ray quickly pulled out a bundle of dollar bills from his pocket and slapped them on the counter. Then, he half ran to join Fraser who was already heading towards the door. The young couple who were sat at the other table had clearly witnessed everything and stared at them as they left. Fraser stopped at the door and turned his head back towards them, blushing. “False alarm,” he said and ran out after Ray.

Ray had slumped to the floor on his knees and had tears of laughter running down his face. “I nearly shot that cake, Fraser!” he said, wiping his eyes.

“Well I don't know what's so funny Ray,” replied Fraser, trying to retain his dignity, “there was indeed something surreptitious occurring.”

“Oh buddy,” said Ray, getting to his feet, “I really think we need this vacation! Your Mountie senses are way off today!”

Fraser shook his head. Maybe Ray was right, perhaps the idea of talking about things was worrying him more than he'd realised and had knocked his usual abilities a little off kilter. He sighed, looked at Ray and laughed. “That was a little embarrassing,” he agreed.

As they headed back towards the car, Diefenbaker was still pacing about. “Dief, will you please get on with it” instructed Fraser, impatiently, “we're not stopping again until we get there now. If you don't relieve yourself in the next five minutes you'll have to hold it for at least an hour.” Dief looked at him with one of those 'don't talk to me like that' looks that he had perfected, but decided that ultimately it wasn't worth arguing with the man again and wandered off behind a tree. Fraser shook his head. “I think he's becoming embarrassed about performing his natural bodily functions in public,” he explained to Ray.

Ray laughed. “Perhaps ya should let him go into a cubicle?” he suggested.

Fraser sighed. “It's my fault, I've been too soft on him and now he thinks he's a city dwelling human being instead of an Arctic wolf!” He grinned at Ray. “Would you like me to drive the rest of the way?” he asked.

“No thanks Fraser,” replied Ray, “we're nearly there and I'm really enjoying the drivin' actually. Sure beats crawlin' in Chicago traffic every day.”

“Agreed,” nodded Fraser.

Back on the road again, Fraser's hat was in it's usual position on the dashboard and he had returned to staring out of the window. “Are you OK buddy?” Ray enquired. He knew what Fraser was thinking about. He didn't want the prospect of talking about the things they'd agreed to talk about to ruin the whole of their weekend.

“I'm fine Ray,” replied Fraser, turning his head and smiling. “I'm just thinking, that's all.”

“OK,” Ray replied. Fraser obviously didn't want to talk yet and Ray was fine with that so he refocussed his thoughts on the road ahead.

xXx

It wasn't long before they arrived at the farm. They pulled up outside the farmhouse and just as Ray switched off the engine, they saw a plump, grey haired man aged around sixty five appear from around the back of the house. He walked up to the GTO as Ray, Fraser and Diefenbaker got out, extending his hand warmly and smiling broadly. “Milford Buxley” he introduced himself, shaking Fraser and Ray by the hand, “and this is my wife Gloria.” A woman of around the same age had also appeared, carrying a baby in her arms. Ray and Fraser introduced themselves to the couple.

“Hello. I'm so pleased to meet you, Constable,” said the woman, smiling, “we've heard so much about you from Lyndon. This is my granddaughter, Wendy. My son works away a lot of the time, he's a scientist, a lecturer, he's very intelligent, so his wife, Maria lives here with Wendy.”

“Gloria,” Milford Buxley spoke, chuckling, “these gentlemen have had a very long journey, I'm sure they're not interested in how proud we are of our son!” The baby girl had fixed her gaze on Fraser who was pulling a face at her.

“What are ya doin' Fraser?” asked Ray, shuffling his feet and looking slightly embarrassed.

“I'm doing the puffin face, Ray,” replied Fraser, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Well stop, Fraser,” said Ray, not quite able to look at his partner.

“Oh dear,” chuckled Gloria Buxley, addressing Ray, “I see you're not used to babies! Would you like to hold her.” She held out baby Wendy for Ray, but Ray just looked even more uncomfortable.

“Er, no thanks,” he said, looking at Fraser for help, “no offence, or nothin'.” Fraser knew that Ray had always thought that he would have children with Stella, but that, of course, never happened. It had made him somewhat awkward around children. It was one of those difficult subjects for Ray, all connected with the disintegration of his marriage and Fraser made a mental note to try to broach the subject when they finally got around to talking about things later. Fraser was determined that it was not only his own problems that they were going to discuss. That had been their arrangement, anyway.

“Poor Maria's not feeling well today,” Gloria went on, “if you ask me she's missing Daniel. It must be hard for her in a strange country with a new baby. We do our best for her, but...” Gloria noticed her husband glaring at her and decided she had probably said too much already to these people whom they'd only just met.

Fraser noticed the looks that passed between the couple and changing the subject, he said, “We really should go and erect our tent before it starts to get dark. If you would kindly point us in the right direction.”

“Of course,” beamed Milford Buxley, “I'm afraid the path down there is rather narrow so you'll have to leave your car here. My, she is a beauty.” He looked admiringly at the GTO.

Ray smiled, “Sure is,” he replied, walking over to the car.

“We only have this old gal,” continued Buxley, pointing to a rather rusty old pick-up truck parked to the side of the house. “She still runs like a dream, though.” Ray nodded. He knew that some of these older vehicles were built to run forever and usually rusted away long before the engines were ready for the scrapyard. They unloaded their things and followed Buxley through an apple orchard to the field where they were going to make camp. “We get a few campers here,” he explained, “and you're most welcome. If you're hungry, Gloria will be quite happy to cook for you later on.”

“Thank you kindly, Mr Buxley, but there will be no need for that.” Fraser said.

“Oh please, call me Milford,” replied the farmer. “Well, if you're sure...but please do walk up and collect some fresh eggs in the morning,” he went on, “they're not quite as good as Lyndon's, but we do our best. Jorge Benitez, our farm manager will be here at the crack of dawn. It's officially his day off, but he often comes in for a few hours anyway. I don't know what we'd do without him these days. We're getting a little too old for all this.” He waved his hand around to indicate the size of the farm. “Jorge's been with us for years and now we also have Jack. He's only a youngster, dropped out of college, I believe, but he'll help you with those eggs. He loves the chickens. Actually he's great with all the animals. He's going to love you!” He ruffled Diefenbaker's ears as he said this.

“Thanks,” said Ray. He'd never eaten fresh eggs before, certainly not that fresh, straight from the chicken and the thought made him feel a bit weird. In fact, he was feeling completely out of his comfort zone. His ears had tuned to the repetitive sound of the crickets as soon as they'd arrived and he was beginning to find it a little annoying. This is the countryside, he thought to himself, better get used to it. It's only for four days.

Milford went back to his house and left Fraser and Ray putting up the tent. Well, Fraser put up the tent, Ray stood back picking up various tent poles and looking at them in confusion. “Doesn't this thing come with instructions?” he asked.

Fraser shook his head. “Ray,” he began and stopped hammering in a tent peg long enough to talk to his friend, “are you sure you want to do this? You don't seem very comfortable.”

“Yeah buddy, sorry,” replied Ray, a little sheepishly, “I do, it's just that I've never really done this before. My Mum, y'know, she hated the idea of camping, she said it was dirty! Me and my brother slept out in the back yard a couple of times when we were kids, but she kept comin' out and giving us food and extra blankets. Sort of, um, sorta ruined the atmosphere.” Fraser laughed. Ray's mother was, indeed, very motherly and over protective of Ray, even now.

It wasn't long before the camp was looking much more homely. The tent was up and Ray had put the bedrolls and the rest of their gear inside. There was some firewood already chopped and Fraser set about making a fire. Ray placed two larger logs around the fire for them to sit on and Diefenbaker had already made himself at home on a grassy patch that was just catching the last of the sun as it dipped below the horizon.

Ray was feeling more relaxed now too and Fraser was pleased. The air of trepidation still hung over him though, he knew Ray was going to push him to open up about Victoria later on. He knew he had to get it out into the open. Thoughts of her and what she'd done to him still haunted him and he knew that had to stop soon before it sent him crazy. He also knew that Ray deserved an explanation. They were partners and best friends and yet this one thing that seemed to be such a huge part of what made Fraser who he was, was the one thing he felt unable to tell Ray about. Not properly, anyway, not all of it. Ray knew the basics and a couple of times Fraser had mentioned it in conversation, usually relating to a case or something that was troubling Ray, but Fraser felt so uncomfortable talking about his feelings and emotions. That sort of thing came much more easily to his friend and Fraser was more than a little envious of that particular trait.

Their arrangement for this weekend had been that if Fraser talked about Victoria, then Ray would talk through how he felt about Stella. Fraser knew that the end of his marriage had really affected Ray and he knew that his friend needed to deal with it, sooner rather than later, so he had resigned himself to the Victoria conversation in return for a chance to help his partner. He hoped it wouldn't be as hard as he thought it was going to be. He may have been wrong.

xXx

A short while later, they were sitting by a roaring fire eating flame cooked hamburgers. Ray was grateful that Fraser hadn't noticed the bottle of ketchup he'd slipped into a side pocket of one of his bags as he felt sure that his buddy would have made him leave it at home. He probably had a recipe for burger relish made out of berries and things you foraged for in the woods, or something, thought Ray with a shiver. “Promise me these aren't mooseburgers,” Ray said to his partner with a grin.

“One hundred percent American beef,” Fraser promised with a chuckle, tossing Diefenbaker a freshly cooked burger. Dief virtually swallowed it down in one go. “You'll give yourself indigestion,” he warned the wolf. Dief wasn't listening, as usual and instead stuck his nose in the bag looking for more food. “Go and hunt something, for heavens sake!” Fraser pointed off towards the open fields. Diefenbaker ignored him and wandered over to Ray, looking up at him expectantly.

“Sorry boy,” said Ray, “I'm not gettin' involved in this.” He glanced over to Fraser, who was busy stoking the fire, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handful of multi-coloured sugar-coated chocolate drops and palming them to Dief. He put one finger to his lips in a silent 'Sshh' and Dief skulked off to enjoy his haul.

“I can hear you crunching,” Fraser said, without taking his eyes off the fire. Dief, of course, didn't hear what he said, but Ray stifled a giggle with the back of his hand, realising that the comment was purely for his benefit. Fraser got to his feet and turned to Ray. “Ready for tea?” he asked. Ray tried to look innocent and just nodded. Fraser set about boiling some water to make tea. He had brought some instant coffee with him for Ray, but he wasn't about to tell his friend that. Ray hadn't argued at the prospect of tea this time. He thought he would save the coffee for an emergency, which would most likely be the next morning, he concluded. Ray was terrible first thing without his caffeine hit, although Fraser was hoping that all this fresh air may be enough to get him up and about. I'll just have have to wait and see, he thought.

They fell silent for a few minutes, just watching the fire and waiting for the water to boil. Ray was actually looking forward to his tea. He would never tell Fraser, but his buddy was right, tea really did help to focus his mind and calm his nerves. Coffee made him jumpy and irritable, well even more jumpy and irritable than normal, but I guess I'm addicted to the caffeine, he decided. The atmosphere was becoming very slightly uncomfortable now and Ray didn't quite know what to say. Had he pushed his buddy too far? He really hoped not. “We don't have t'do this,” Ray said quietly.

“Do what Ray?” asked Fraser, trying to sound nonchalant. “Drink tea? I do have some...”

“Not the tea Fraser,” Ray interrupted, lifting his head and looking at Fraser, “ya know what I'm talking about.”

“Ray,” Fraser drew a deep breath, “You were absolutely right before. I have been holding onto all of this for far too long. I'm just not sure where to start.”

“How about you try, y'know, the beginning, Fraser?” Ray replied with half a smile.

Considering the vast vocabulary that he called upon so easily at other times, Fraser really wasn't very good at expressing his feelings. Ray listened as Fraser told him the whole story. Right from the beginning over ten years ago now. He told Ray how he'd fallen in love with Victoria Metcalfe as they'd both clung to life up on Fortitude Pass. He couldn't explain it, it was if he'd known her forever, across a thousand lifetimes.

Ray was incredibly moved by that. He'd fallen in love with Stella when he was just a kid but he'd never been able to express how he felt in such a, well, in such a poetic way, he thought to himself. He didn't even know if he'd ever felt that way about Stella at all. Perhaps that was my problem, he sighed.

The water finally boiled and Fraser made two mugs of tea. One of his favourite blends, he hoped Ray would like it. Ray blew on his tea to cool it a little as Fraser talked. He tried to explain the guilt he'd felt after Victoria was sent to prison for her part in the bank robbery. Ray struggled to understand. “She was a criminal, Fraser,” he said. “People died durin' that robbery.”

“I know,” replied Fraser, “that's what I don't understand. Why her, Ray? Why?”

“You can't help who ya fall in love with,” sighed Ray, “but ya can't feel guilty for turnin' her in. Who knows what she, er, what she might have done if, y'know, if you'd let her go free?”

Fraser shook his head. “I spent the next eight years trying to convince myself that I'd done the right thing. It took a while, but I think I'd finally got it clear in my mind. I hoped that her time in prison would help her to realise that crime is not the answer and she'd come out a better person. I'd done my duty...but then she came back.”

He told Ray how he and Ray Vecchio had been walking along the street when he'd seen her. He thought he was imagining things. Her face had haunted his nightmares for eight years and he thought that, perhaps, now she was starting to haunt his waking hours too. That thought had terrified him. Then when he saw her again he'd gone running down the road after her like a crazy man, but it was her. It was really her. When he saw her again after all those years, it was as if nothing had changed. They spent that evening together, just like a normal couple. They'd cooked and eaten a meal together and then they watched an old movie together, snuggled in each others arms.

He told Ray how he'd walked her back to her hotel, but later she'd returned to his apartment. They'd got through the whole evening without mentioning what had happened before, what he'd done to her, but now she was angry. She'd attacked him, shouting and screaming at him and he'd felt so guilty, so dreadfully guilty, but all he could do was to hold her in his arms and then they'd kissed. Kissed more passionately than he'd ever kissed anyone before.

“I couldn't help it Ray,” he said quietly. “She looked so beautiful...” his voice trailed off. He took a deep breath. “What was I thinking?” Ray shrugged. He couldn't think of anything to say. He couldn't believe how Fraser had fallen so completely for this woman. “We made love Ray.” Fraser bowed his head as he said this, as if it was the most shameful admission he'd ever had to make.

“Fraser, you were in love with her,” said Ray, trying to ease some his friend's pain. “That's what people in love do, right? It's OK.”

“No Ray, it's not OK!” Fraser was releasing some of his anger. Finally, thought Ray, finally we might be getting somewhere. It was the first display of real emotion that Fraser had allowed himself throughout this whole conversation so far.

“Why didn't I see it?” Fraser continued. He was so angry with himself. “Why didn't I see what she was doing? She was manipulating me, totally and completely and I let her do it and then...and then...” he couldn't finish that sentence as a single tear ran down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away with the back of his hand. “For the next three days, nothing else mattered. The rest of my life didn't matter to me any more, only her. I didn't go to work and the worst thing...the worst thing Ray was that I forgot about a social evening that Ray, Ray Vecchio I mean, had arranged for us at his house with Lieutenant Welsh, Jack Huey and others from the 27th. We were going to play pool, drink beer... I was meant to be bringing the food. I just forgot. I never forget anything Ray.” Fraser hung his head again..

Ray couldn't argue with him. He couldn't imagine Fraser being so involved with this woman that he'd let Ray Vecchio down like that. “What did Vecchio say?” asked Ray, putting his empty mug on the floor.

“He was mad with me. Really angry. He had every right to be too,” replied Fraser. “He came to see me and we argued and he just left. I went after him, I was trying to explain, but it was then that Victoria shot Diefenbaker.” His voice cracked as he looked over at Dief who was curled up by the fire, snoring gently. “She told me someone had come to the apartment, Jolly, the man with whom she'd robbed the bank. She said she'd just managed to escape and I assumed Dief had been trying to protect her. She told me lie after lie Ray and I didn't see through any of it.”

“Maybe ya just, y'know, ya didn't want to see it?” offered Ray.

Fraser shrugged. “She killed him later. Jolly, that is. Single gunshot to the head, point blank range. She stole my gun and tried to frame me for the murder. She turned into a cold blooded killer Ray. The woman I loved.” Fraser's voice was barely a whisper now. He went on to explain to Ray how Victoria had covered her tracks perfectly. She had hidden the stolen money at his father's cabin in the Yukon, before burning it down. She'd also made it look as if both he and Ray had somehow been spending some of the stolen money around Chicago. “We were both under suspicion regarding the stolen money and then I was arrested for the murder. Ray Vecchio mortgaged his house to post bail for me.” He drew a slow, deep breath. Ray Vecchio had put more than just his home on the line for his friend.

“I guess ya knew by now what she was doing?” Ray suggested.

Fraser nodded. “Ray and I were able to piece most of it together. I should have hated her by this point, but I... I still needed...I still wanted...” Another tear. This time Fraser just let it fall.

“We can stop if ya want to.” Ray spoke gently. He could see how hard this was for his friend. He'd thought talking about it would help, but now he was beginning to wonder.

Fraser shook his head. “She told me she still loved me. She said she loved me and she hated me. What was I supposed to do with that?” Fraser fell silent for a moment as he remembered. He told Ray about the locker with all the stolen money in it at the railway station and the key she'd planted at the Vecchio house and about the diamonds. “She begged me to leave with her, she had two plane tickets,” Fraser went on. “She had taken Ray's back up gun. When I refused, she was going to shoot me, but instead she kissed me.” Fraser's tongue darted out and lingered over his lower lip and he closed his eyes, he could still taste that kiss, he could still taste her. “She could have killed me, but she let me go. She did the one thing I couldn't do all those years ago.”

“She didn't know you'd swapped the locker keys.” Ray pointed out. “Maybe if she'd known...” he suddenly thought finishing that sentence was, perhaps, not going to help. “When you caught up with her, was she already on the train?” he asked. He'd read the files, all the reports. He knew the basic facts about what had happened. He and Fraser had even spoken about it before, but only briefly, only about tiny parts of it. He'd always known that this woman had hurt Fraser, hurt him badly, but he was becoming more and more shocked with each of Fraser's revelations.

Fraser opened his eyes and looked at his friend. “No. Ray Vecchio had arrived at the station with Lieutenant Welsh and the others. Victoria realised that I'd set her up and she said she was going to kill me, but...”

“But she didn't,” interrupted Ray.

Fraser shook his head again and sighed. “No, she didn't. She begged me to get on the train with her. I wanted to, I wanted to so badly, but I knew it was wrong and I just stood there as the train pulled away. I saw Ray running along the platform and then I looked into her eyes as she got further and further away. She was holding out her hand for me and I just started running towards her.”

“You changed your mind?” Ray wasn't sure he understood.

“I honestly don't know, Ray,” Fraser replied. “It was only a matter of seconds, but in my head one moment I was going to go with her, then I was going to stop her, then I was going with her again. Over and over, round and round, I didn't know what to do.” Fraser held his head in his hands. “I was prepared to get on that train and leave with her. Why Ray? Why? It would have ruined Ray Vecchio's life, I didn't even know if Dief was going to pull through, but I was going to to do it anyway. I didn't care.” Fraser's tears flowed more freely now.

“You were confused, Fraser,” Ray tried to look as understanding as possible, but the truth was, he didn't understand. I suppose I never will really understand, he thought, but I'm going to do my best for him. He needs me. “What were ya thinkin' when ya finally caught up with her? Were you goin' with her or were ya gonna bring her in?”

“The truth Ray?” Fraser lifted his head and looked at Ray. Ray nodded. “The truth is I think I was going with her...” his voice cracked again and he wiped his face with one hand.

“Then Vecchio shot ya,” Ray said. Fraser put his head in his hands again.

“He saved my life. Ray Vecchio saved my life.” Fraser's voice was almost a whisper. He cleared his throat, looked back at his friend and spoke more clearly now. “Ray told me later that he thought Victoria had a gun in her hand. She didn't, I'd taken it from her, but it was dark and Ray was still some distance away. He thought she was going to kill me so he aimed at her and fired and that was the moment I jumped onto the train. I don't really remember anything else. Ray told me I fell back onto the platform, but I don't remember.”

“You were hurt pretty bad,” said Ray, it was all in the files.

“I remember some parts. I remember being in the hospital,” continued Fraser, “they were taking me to surgery and I remember seeing Ray there, but I saw her too.”

“At the hospital?” Ray was confused, “I thought she got away on the train?”

“Yes Ray,” Fraser nodded, “but she was still in my head. I saw her everywhere.”

“You weren't thinking straight,” Ray tried to console his friend, “you were bleeding and, er, y'know, the, er, the pain must have been bad.”

“I didn't feel any pain,” said Fraser, flatly. “I couldn't feel anything. It's as if I wasn't really there. I can't explain it.” They sat in silence for a moment. Ray looked at the floor as he tried to make sense of it. He understood how Ray Vecchio must have felt. The guilt at shooting his friend. He wondered if Fraser had ever managed to convey to Vecchio exactly how grateful he actually was. It was an accident, but Fraser still felt that Vecchio shooting him was the only thing that had stopped him going with Victoria and ruining his entire life. Maybe she would still have killed him anyway? There was no way of knowing, thought Ray.

Suddenly, Ray's thoughts were interrupted by a noise. Fraser had been fighting hard, but a single sob had escaped. Ray looked over to him. His head was bowed and his eyes were tightly shut. His breathing was shallow and his whole body was trembling slightly. “Fraser,” began Ray, gently, “let it go, let it out buddy.” Fraser didn't respond. “D'ya want me to go?” continued Ray, he wasn't sure if maybe his friend wanted privacy. “I can take a walk down to...”

“No!” Fraser interrupted, desperately. “Please Ray, don't go.” Fraser opened his eyes and turned his head to face his friend. Even in the flickering light of the fire, Ray could see something in his tear filled eyes that he'd never seen before. Fear. Fraser was absolutely terrified of losing control, Ray realised suddenly. A second sob rose up and shook Fraser to the core. “Fraser, it's OK. Don't, um, y'know, don't be scared. Let it go, ya gotta let it go.” As Ray spoke, he got onto his knees and moved closer to Fraser.

“I still love her Ray,” Fraser managed to say. He was still fighting.

Ray spoke again, “Fraser, you have to do this. You cannot hold onto this any more.” He put his arm around his partner's shoulder. “Let it go. I'm here for ya.”

That simple gesture was all he needed. Fraser was lost. He couldn't hold it any longer and he cried like he'd never cried before. Ray placed his other hand on the back of Fraser's head and pulled it down onto his shoulder. Fraser turned his body slightly towards Ray, but his elbows were still resting on his own legs and his hands hung loosely around his knees. “It's OK,” Ray whispered and Fraser finally let go and allowed all the feelings he'd been so afraid of for almost three years to flow out.

He trembled as the sobs racked through his body. “I still love her,” he repeated again.

“Ssshhh,” soothed Ray. They stayed like that for what seemed to Fraser like hours, but in reality was maybe only ten or fifteen minutes. Ray tried his best to offer words of support, to guide his friend through the despair and to reassure him that doing this was for the best. Eventually Fraser became a little calmer. He lifted his head from Ray's shoulder and stared down at the floor again. Ray still had his arm around Fraser's shoulder. “Big breaths, c'mon buddy,” Ray said, quietly, “big breaths.”

Fraser tried to do as Ray suggested and he drew in a big deep breath. His head was pounding, he'd never felt like this before. Suddenly, he looked at Ray and his face went pale as he spoke. “You'll have to excuse me,” he began, shaking Ray's arm away and getting to his feet, “I think I'm...I'm going to vomit.” As he said this, he darted off behind some bushes and Ray heard him retching and being violently sick.

Ray sighed a huge sigh. He was now filled with doubt. He'd encouraged this. He thought this was what his friend needed. Ray himself had previously experienced a situation when he'd bottled up his emotions, following the Beth Botrelle incident, and when those emotions had finally spilled out, Fraser had been there for him as he'd broken down. Afterwards, Ray had felt so much better and he had assumed that this would be a similar situation, but nothing had prepared him for the things that Fraser had told him. This woman had completely taken over his head. How could she do that to him? She was clearly crazy, thought Ray, she'd told him she loved him and hated him in the same breath. She tried to kill him and then she begged him to go with her. No wonder Fraser was so screwed up. He was in love with a crazy, cold blooded killer and there was nothing he could do about it. Tears stung Ray's eyes now. Maybe I should have let him keep it inside, he thought, maybe having that control was the one thing that was keeping him together, keeping him sane. Maybe I've broken Fraser? That thought terrified Ray.

Just then, Fraser walked slowly back towards the camp fire. Ray leapt to his feet and handed his friend a bottle of water. “Thank you,” whispered Fraser, unable to make eye contact with his partner. He unscrewed the lid of the bottle and took a few sips of water. It soothed his throat and he drew strength from it's purity.

“It's OK,” started Ray, “we've, er, we've got another couple of bottles in the...”

“I'm not talking about the water Ray,” Fraser lifted his head this time and looked directly at his friend. Ray allowed himself to feel a little relieved and he nodded in acknowledgement.

“Go to bed Fraser,” instructed Ray.

“I just need to...” Fraser turned his head and glanced back towards the bushes where he'd just been.

“It's OK buddy,” Ray said, raising his hand to stop his friend talking, “I'll deal with it.”

Fraser rubbed at his eyebrow with his thumb. “Ray, you also need to make sure that the fire is completely extinguished...”

“Fraser, sleep!” Ray's voice was even firmer now, “I'll deal with it,” he repeated, a little more gently. Fraser nodded and headed off towards the tent. He knew he could trust his friend really, he had to, he didn't have the strength to do anything else.

Ray watched him go. That little exchange had lifted him slightly. That was typical Fraser, he thought, typical that he would be worrying about cleaning up and putting the fire out. Ray smiled a little. He's going to be OK, he thought.

xXx

A few hours later, just as the sun was beginning to rise, Fraser was woken by strange noises. He sat up and saw that Ray was tossing and turning in his sleeping bag. He'd somehow managed to wriggle right down inside it and he was mumbling incomprehensibly. Fraser reached over, unzipped Ray's sleeping bag and shook his friend by the shoulder. “Ray, wake up.” Ray was dripping with sweat, but he sat bolt upright at the sound of Fraser's voice. He looked around the tent, his eyes were unable to focus. “Ray, you were dreaming.” Fraser spoke again and this time Ray looked straight at him.

“Sorry, buddy,” he said, slowly realising what had happened.

“Are you alright?” asked Fraser.

Ray couldn't quite believe what his partner was saying. His head was full of images of earlier on, of Fraser's raw emotions and his unconscious mind had been having trouble processing it all. Now his friend was asking him if he was alright? “I'm fine Fraser,” he began, “you?”

“I'm also fine,” Fraser smiled, “actually I was sleeping very well. Thank you kindly for your concern.”

Ray smiled back. Impulsively, he scrambled across his sleeping bag and threw his arms around Fraser. Fraser was completely taken aback by his friend's sudden display of affection. “Ray, I'm OK,” he assured him.

Ray broke away. “I'm, er, I'm sorry,” he said, instantly aware he may have made his friend feel uncomfortable.

“It's alright Ray,” said Fraser, “this is the new 'me' you're talking to.” Ray looked puzzled. Fraser continued, earnestly, “I am no longer emotionally repressed.” He looked straight at Ray and Ray saw the glint in his eye and the smirk dancing delicately at the corner of his mouth.

Ray laughed. Fraser so rarely made a joke. “I dunno what to say. How do ya feel?” he asked, a little nervously.

Fraser considered his answer for a moment. He took a quick breath before replying. “I feel like I've been run over by a truck,” he began, with another tiny grin on his lips, “but my head hasn't been this clear for, well, for a very long time Ray. Thank you.” Ray nodded and nothing else needed to be said.

xXx

The next morning, Fraser was awake much later than normal, but he felt very refreshed. He couldn't remember a night when he'd slept so well and he set about chopping some more firewood. He'd already lit a fire and there was a kettle of water fast approaching boiling point. He decided not to deliberately wake Ray, but he assumed that the sound of the axe would eventually rouse him. He quickly made a small pile of chopped wood, almost enough for today, he thought, when suddenly he heard a voice. “Morning Son.” Fraser jumped and quickly turned around, clutching one hand to his chest.

“Dad!” He exclaimed, “I have an axe in my hand! I could have...” but as Fraser's train of thought was completely lost at the sight of his father's ghost. “What on earth are you wearing?”

Usually Bob Fraser appeared in his Mountie dress uniform, but today he was wearing khaki shorts and a shirt with walking boots and knee high chunky knit socks. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Ah, fresh air, the sound of the birds, the smell of...” He stopped and looked down at himself before addressing his son again. “We're in the countryside, Benton, I thought the red serge might look at bit out of place.”

“It looks out of place in Chicago, Dad and anyway, I'm the only one who can see you, in case you'd forgotten.” Benton shook his head. “Is there something I can do for you?” he said and started to chop another log. He was beginning to get annoyed with the presence of his father already.

“No Son, no, I'm going for a walk in the woods,” continued Bob, “I just thought I'd stop by and see if, um, that is I wanted to make sure that you were alright.”

Benton threw down his axe and turned to face his father again. “Please tell me you weren't here last night.” He was really struggling to keep from yelling at the ghost. “I am entitled to privacy, you know.”

“Credit me with some decency,” said Bob, looking a little hurt. “I only dropped by for a minute, but the Yank seemed to have things under control.”

Benton stood motionless and faced his father. “I don't want to talk about it any more Dad, not with you anyway. I don't need to talk about it any more.”

Bob shuffled his feet and looked uncomfortably at the floor. “Good, I mean that's good for you Son,” he said. “I'll be off then,” he turned and started walking towards the trees, but stopped and turned back to watch his son who had, once again, returned to chopping wood. “If it means anything to you Benton, I think you did the right thing. What I mean is...what I'm trying to say is...is that I'm proud of you Son.”

Fraser pretended he hadn't heard because he was in danger of becoming emotional again and he didn't want to do that in front of his father. When he finally did look up, the ghost had gone. Fraser allowed himself a small smile. He turned around to see Ray's head poking out of the tent. “Good morning Ray!”

“What time is it?” croaked Ray, rubbing one eye.

Fraser looked at his watch. “It's almost seven thirty Ray!” he exclaimed, as if they were terribly late for something.

Ray made a groaning noise and hung his head. “Gimme five minutes,” he said and crawled back into the tent to get dressed.

“Are we going to go and collect some eggs for breakfast?” Fraser called after him. He heard a muffled 'Mmmm' from Ray. The water was boiling away now and Fraser got their mugs. “Tea Ray?” he called out again, hesitating before adding, “or coffee.”

Ray's head darted out of the tent, “You brought coffee?” he asked, not sure if maybe Fraser was cruelly teasing him. Fraser nodded. “Thanks buddy!” grinned Ray. He emerged from the tent a few moments later and Fraser handed him a steaming cup of coffee. Ray fished around in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a handful his usual unorthodox choice of sweeteners, throwing them into the cup with a splash. He looked at Fraser who was blowing on his mug of tea. “You OK?” he asked, gingerly.

“Ray,” began Fraser, sitting down on a log, “can we agree on one thing?” Ray shrugged and sat himself down. “Please stop asking me if I'm alright.” Ray nodded. “Really Ray, I'm fine.” Ray nodded again. “Look, Ray...” Fraser hesitated a moment, “I apologise if what happened last night in any way, disturbed or shocked you.” Ray started to speak, but Fraser put his hand up to stop his friend. “To be honest, I shocked myself,” he went on, looking uncomfortably at the floor, “but I realise now that I needed to do that. I've needed to do that for such a long time and I can't thank you enough, but I really, really want to move on from Victoria now.” He lifted his head and looked at Ray. “Are we agreed?”

Ray nodded again. “Agreed,” he said. He could tell just by looking at his partner that something had changed. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but it was definitely a good thing, he concluded. Fraser somehow seemed less troubled. He knew that his friend still had to cope with everything that had happened, that was never going to go away, but Ray really hoped that having had the opportunity to put his feelings into words, it would be easier for him from now on.

“Thank you,” said Fraser, smiling at his friend, before adding, “your turn next.”

Ray stared at him. “I'll need a few more of these first,” he said, nodding towards his now empty coffee mug.

“Understood.” Fraser got to his feet as he spoke and extinguished the fire. “Let's go and get those eggs. I'm hungry.” They wandered up the path through the orchard to the farmhouse with Diefenbaker bounding off ahead. Every now and again, Dief would take a detour, chasing a squirrel or some other animal and Fraser ran after him on a couple of occasions, shouting encouragement. He was pleased to see that his wolf hadn't gone completely soft over the last few years. It took them less than ten minutes to get from their campsite back to the farmhouse. As they approached the house, Fraser saw a blue vehicle driving off down the dusty driveway. They walked round the other side of the house towards the chicken sheds, but they couldn't see anyone about.

“I thought Buxley said his farm hands would be here early?” said Ray, “What were their names again?”

“Their Farm Manager is Jorge and the new man is Jack, I believe,” replied Fraser. “We'll go back to the house and see if anyone is about.” Ray nodded and they started back towards the house, but just then, a young woman with long dark straight hair opened the door and stepped out carrying a basket of laundry. She stopped suddenly as she saw Ray and Fraser. “I'm sorry ma'am,” began Fraser, holding out his hand, “you must be Maria. I'm terribly sorry to have startled you. My name is Benton Fraser, we're camping here this weekend and Mr Buxley mentioned something about fresh eggs for breakfast?”

“Yes,” the woman put down her laundry basket as she spoke, “you're the Mounties.” She had quite a heavy South American accent.

“He's the Mountie, I'm just a regular cop,” clarified Ray with a grin, “Ray Kowalski.”

“Sorry,” replied Maria, “Jorge and Jack should be down there somewhere, I saw them arrive this morning. Wendy woke me up early.”

“I believe that babies are good at that,” acknowledged Fraser with a smile, turning to look over his shoulder at Diefenbaker, who was barking and running towards them, before turning and heading back in the opposite direction. “Dief!” he shouted at the wolf, “just go and do it will you, nobody is watching you.” Dief came bounding right up to Fraser. “Dief, please...” but suddenly Fraser's face changed. He dropped to one knee and looked directly at Dief. “What is it?” he asked, suddenly serious. Dief barked and growled. Fraser got to his feet and Ray, sensing something was wrong stepped closer to his partner. “Show me,” Fraser instructed and Dief went running off towards some trees that were directly behind the largest of the chicken sheds, quickly followed by Fraser and Ray.

“What's wrong?” called Maria, starting to walk in the same direction.

“Dunno yet,” Ray yelled back over his shoulder. Fraser and Dief had already disappeared behind the big shed and as Ray caught up with them he stopped in his tracks. Fraser was kneeling down next to the body of a young man lying in a pool of blood. Ray could see a single stab wound to the man's chest. His eyes were still open, but Ray could clearly see that the man was dead. Fraser glanced at Ray, shook his head and gently closed the man's eyelids. Just then Maria caught up with them. Ray turned, trying to stop her seeing the body, but it was too late. She screamed and Ray gently took her by the shoulders and steered her back towards the house a little.

“Jack!” cried Maria, “That was Jack, is he dead? Oh no...Jorge, where's Jorge?” She screamed again.

“I'm sorry,” said Ray. This wasn't meant to be happening on their trip, he sighed.

Milford and Gloria had heard the screaming and came running out of the house. Gloria was still in her dressing gown and was carrying baby Wendy. “What's happened?” asked Milford.

Fraser came around the corner of the shed and held out his hand to stop Milford going any further. Maria was crying hysterically and Gloria was trying to comfort her with her free hand. “I'm so terribly sorry,” began Fraser, “but I'm afraid Jack is dead.” Milford staggered slightly and drew a breath sharply. Tears welled in Gloria's eyes. “May I suggest that you telephone the Sheriff,” Fraser continued, “It would appear that he's been murdered.” Ray had a feeling he was going to say that.

“Oh no!” exclaimed Gloria and Milford put his arm around her. Diefenbaker had run off into the trees, but was now running back, barking. Gloria led Maria back towards the house to call the Sheriff.

“Dief be quiet,” Fraser hissed, “show some respect,” but Dief ran right up to Fraser and jumped at him, growling.

This time it was Ray who spoke to the wolf. “Where, Dief?” Diefenbaker headed back into the trees and Fraser, Ray and Milford Buxley all followed him. Ray and Fraser had a bad feeling they were not going to like what Dief was trying to show them. They were right. Lying on a grassy patch between two trees was another body. More blood, thought Ray, steeling himself.

“You might wanna stay back there,” Ray said to Buxley.

“Jorge,” said Buxley, his voice barely a whisper. “Oh no,” he hung his head.

Fraser knelt beside the body, but as he got close enough he heard a noise. “Dief quiet!” he instructed. He bent forward and put his ear closer to the man's chest then placed two fingers on the man's neck to feel for a pulse. “Ray, he's still alive!”

Ray could hardly believe it. There was a stab wound in the man's abdomen that was pouring blood out onto the grass. His head had been beaten so badly that the side of his face and neck had swollen to such an horrific extent so he was barely recognisable. A really vicious attack, thought Ray, they must have used a heavy weapon. Jorge was clearly struggling to breathe and was making a whistling, rasping sound with each tiny breath that he took. “Buxley,” Ray yelled, tossing the older man his car keys, “First aid kit, in the trunk of my car and get an ambulance!” Buxley caught the keys and went puffing back towards the GTO, shouting through the open window at his wife to call for an ambulance. Ray dropped to his knees next to Fraser. “Is he gonna make it?” he asked, trying not to look at all the blood. Ray wasn't very good in these sort of situations.

Fraser was busy assessing Jorge's injuries. “I don't know Ray” he said, folding his handkerchief into four and pressing it down onto the wound in the man's abdomen. He put his ear to the man's chest again, the rasping noise had stopped. “He's barely breathing,” he said. Ray's heart sank. “Here, take over,” Fraser indicated the now blood soaked handkerchief to Ray. Ray hesitated slightly, he really did not want to take over at all, he started to feel a little faint. “Ray!” Fraser's voice jolted Ray into action. “Firm, even pressure,” continued Fraser. Ray, nodded, took a deep breath and pressed down onto the wound.

Buxley returned with the first aid kit and handed it to Fraser who began hurriedly rummaging through it. He took out a small jar containing a green coloured paste. That's one of those Inuit concoctions, thought Ray, although he had no idea what it was for. Ray reached across with his free hand and took a thick cotton dressing pad from the box, tearing off the wrapper with his teeth and quickly pressed the pad down over the wound. Fraser lowered his ear to Jorge's chest once again. “He's stopped breathing, do you have a pen?” asked Fraser, urgently, glancing at his watch. A pen, thought Ray, is he going to write him a note? Buxley reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen. “Perfect,” said Fraser, grabbing the pen and taking it apart. He took out his knife from the pocket of his jeans and began wiping the blade and the barrel of the pen quickly, but thoroughly, with the green paste.

“Fraser, what is that stuff? What are you doin'?” asked Ray, suddenly more concerned, although he didn't really want to know the answer to that last part.

Fraser looked up at his friend. “It has sterilizing properties,” he began, rubbing a vertical line of the green paste on the man's throat just below his Adam's Apple. He knew Ray wasn't going to like this, but he had to do something, quickly. “The severity of the swelling is preventing him from breathing,” he explained. Fraser knew that an attempt at mouth to mouth resuscitation would be futile in this instance. He glanced at his watch again. “We have, maybe, two minutes now. I need to open his airway.”

Ray nodded and refocussed his attention on the wound. “Firm, even pressure,” he muttered under his breath. “Firm, even pressure,” he said again and kept repeating it over and over. Anything to take is mind off whatever the hell it was that Fraser was doing to the man's throat with his pocketknife and that pen. “Firm, even pressure...”

xXx

Fraser and Ray watched as Jorge was loaded into the back of the ambulance. He had been attached to various pieces of apparatus, but he was still alive. One of the medics darted over to them. “Nice work,” he said. “Improvised many of those before, Doctor?” he asked.

“None, actually,” said Fraser, “and it's Constable,” he corrected, “Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP.” The medic looked confused.

Ray addressed the medic, “I'm guessin' he read it in a library book,” he said, looking at Fraser for confirmation. His partner nodded. The medic's colleague shouted that they were ready to go and he jumped into the back of the ambulance in stunned silence.

Milford Buxley walked up to them. He looked very pale. “I'm going to follow the ambulance,” he said, “I'll call if there's any news. Thank you,” he said grabbing Fraser's hand and shaking it vigorously, “he's one of the family.” Fraser nodded. “Please look after my girls,” said Buxley, turning and heading over to his truck.

“We will,” Ray called after him and they began walking back towards the house where Gloria and Maria were standing. Maria was still very upset and Gloria was hugging her tightly. Baby Wendy, oblivious to the terrible events that had unfolded that morning, was sleeping quietly in the house. Ray glanced at Fraser who, despite outward appearances was a little shaken, Ray could tell. “You OK?” he asked.

“Ray,” began Fraser, “I thought we agreed that you weren't going to ask me that any more.”

“Y'know what I mean,” said Ray, seriously. That was one of the most incredible things he'd ever seen his partner do and Fraser did some pretty incredible things at times. This one took some guts, thought Ray.

Fraser took a deep breath. “I just hope he's going to be alright,” he said, quietly.

They joined Gloria and Maria, just as the black bag containing the body of Jack, their young farm hand, was being carried around to the waiting van. “Perhaps we should go inside,” said Fraser, putting his hand on Gloria's back and quickly steering her and Maria in the opposite direction. He didn't want them to see that, they'd already had enough to deal with. Gloria led them all into their large living room. It was furnished with a mixture of antique and home made furniture, observed Fraser. Milford Buxley was quite the craftsman, he thought.

“Please sit down, I'll go and make some...” began Gloria Buxley, but she was interrupted by the Sheriff who had followed them into the house.

“Right, I'm just about done here, but some of my men will be here for a while collecting evidence,” she said. Sheriff Aisling O'Callaghan was a few years older than Fraser and Ray and was a no nonsense woman. There was something about her that Ray didn't like. She had the wrong attitude to police work, he thought, and that's something coming from me, he acknowledged to himself. “I've got all your statements,” she continued, “don't leave town.” She addressed Fraser and Ray directly with that last statement.

“Shoulda let me pack all those socks,” muttered Ray to his partner. Clearly the Sheriff wasn't one to trust outsiders easily.

“If there's anything we can do Sheriff, please let us know,” said Fraser, smiling.

“Thank you Constable,” she replied, “but I think we can handle this by ourselves. We do know what we're doing, you know.”

Ray sneered as she walked out the door. Gloria went into the kitchen and Maria sat silently on the sofa. “Um, are you OK?” Ray asked her, “I mean, all that was pretty unpleasant for ya.”

Maria looked up at him. “Yes thank you,” she said, rather unconvincingly. Ray glanced at Fraser.

“I imagine you're worried about Jorge,” began Fraser, “are you two good friends? Mr Buxley has expressed how he is part of the family.”

Maria nodded. “He was kind to me when I came here,” she explained, “it was good to have someone from my home country who speaks my language. My English was not very good.”

“Er, I don't mean to be, y'know, ignorant or nothin',” said Ray, “but where are ya from, originally I mean?”

“Brazil,” replied Maria. “Jorge told me he moved here as a boy with his family. I came here a few years ago and found work as a waitress,” she explained. “I was working at a college where Dan was giving one of his lectures and that's how we met.”

“Is there any way you can contact your husband?” asked Fraser, “he may wish to consider returning home early, under the circumstances.”

“Yes,” replied Maria with a smile, “of course. I have the number of his hotel.” She jumped up and went out of the room to make the telephone call.

Just then, Gloria returned with a tray of cups. “Poor dear,” she said quietly. “She is going to take this really hard. I just hope Jorge is going to be alright. Can I get you boys something to eat, you haven't had breakfast, have you?”

“That's quite alright Mrs Buxley,” replied Fraser, “I'm really not hungry any more. Ray?”

Ray agreed, “Me neither,” he said. Diefenbaker made a quiet barking noise and ran over to Gloria. “Nothin' puts the wolf off his breakfast,” said Ray, with a tiny smile. Gloria went back to the kitchen and found some corn chips which she began feeding to Dief. Fraser rolled his eyes, but under the circumstances decided to remain silent.

Maria returned a few moments later. “Dan is trying to get a flight back this afternoon,” she said.

“Oh wonderful,” Gloria's face lit up at the mention of her son, “we're so proud of him. Daniel didn't even meet Jack,” she added, sadly, “he's been away on his lecture tour for nearly two months now. We do miss him, don't we Maria.”

Maria nodded, then her face crumbled and she burst into tears. She turned and ran out of the room. Gloria excused herself and went after her. Fraser turned to Ray. “Well Ray, “ he said, “what do you think?”

“C'mon Fraser,” replied Ray, “we have no jurisdiction here. I mean, you have even less jurisdiction than normal and normally ya have, y'know, no jurisdiction.”

“That makes no sense Ray.” Fraser said.

Ray looked at him. “OK then, spill,” he said, “who did it?”

“Ray, you can't possibly expect me to have solved this crime already?” Fraser frowned at his partner. “I have, however, made one or two observations. I assume you noticed the tyre tracks?”

“Oh yeah Fraser, the tyre tracks,” replied Ray, sarcastically shaking his head. “Can we just pretend for a minute that I was not looking at the tyre tracks and, um, maybe you could tell me about them?”

Fraser sighed. “Well, apart from the tracks for the ambulance, the vehicles belonging to the Sheriff's department, Mr Buxley's truck and your GTO, there was a distinctive set of tyre tracks, presumably belonging to the blue van we saw leaving this morning as we walked up to the house.” Ray nodded, trying to keep up. “The rear wheels of the vehicle are clearly unbalanced, suggesting that the vehicle has been taken off road and the balancing has either been knocked by the poor road conditions, or there is a build up of mud or similar material on the rim.”

“A lotta people round here go off road Fraser, y'know, comes with the territory,” said Ray.

“Agreed,” nodded Fraser, “however most people who frequently drive in such conditions would have a four wheel drive vehicle. The van was two wheel drive.” Ray took this information in with a shrug.

“So you're suggestin' the perp is from out of town?” asked Ray.

“Quite possibly Ray,” nodded Fraser, “I also believe that we are looking for two criminals.”

“Why d'ya say that, Fraser?” enquired Ray.

“Well, the two victims were both stabbed, however the wounds were clearly made by different weapons,” continued Fraser. “Poor Jack had a single stab wound made by a military style knife with a seven inch blade which would have easily pierced his heart, killing him instantly. The wound was inflicted precisely and efficiently.” Ray listened with interest. It had been as much as he could do to look at the man's body, without paying such attention to the actual wound, the one with all the blood. Ray shuddered. “However,” Fraser was still talking, “The most serious of Jorge's injuries were to his head and neck, caused by a vicious attack with a heavy, blunt object such as a hammer. The stab wound that he had in his abdomen was inflicted by a much shorter knife with a blade that hadn't been sharpened in some time. Also, although the wound was bleeding heavily, it was not even close to any major organs, suggesting that it was inflicted randomly with little thought or precision. This would suggest two attackers, each with a different preferred, or possibly even tried and tested method for killing.”

“But why Fraser?” asked Ray, “where's the motive? Looks like nothin' was stolen so it wasn't a robbery?”

“I have no idea at this juncture,” replied Fraser with a sigh.

“So are ya gonna share all that with Sheriff Rottweiler?” asked Ray.

“I did mention the tyre tracks to her earlier, although she didn't seem that interested. The details regarding the weapons will become apparent during the autopsy.” Fraser stated. It was fairly obvious to both of them that the Sheriff wasn't interested in their help. Nor should she be, thought Fraser, a competent Sheriff's Department can quite easily run a homicide investigation.

Just then, Gloria returned with the baby. “I told Maria to go back to bed for a while,” she explained, “Wendy has been keeping her up in the night, I think she's teething. Maria thinks we don't hear, but we do. I wish she'd ask for more help, we'd be happy to have Wendy in our room for a night to let Maria get some sleep. She's not coping very well with Daniel being away all the time. She's so happy that he's on his way home today.”

“She does look, um, tired,” agreed Ray. “I guess she's real worried about Jorge too and she saw Jack, I tried to stop her, y'know, stop her seein' the body, but I was too late. Sorry. No one should have to deal with a thing like that.” I wish I didn't have to, Ray added silently.

“It's a terrible business,” agreed Gloria, “we hardly knew Jack, he'd only been with us a few weeks, but he seemed nice. Quiet though. Sheriff O'Callaghan said she was going to try to track down his family. I'm afraid we don't have any details.”

“How long has Jorge been working for you?” asked Fraser.

“Almost ten years,” replied Gloria, smiling. “he used to live here originally, but a little place in town came up a few years ago and I suppose he wanted his privacy. He's always here though, I don't know what we'd do without him.” Gloria's voice cracked as she spoke.

“Hey,” Ray placed his hand gently on her shoulder, “I think he's a tough guy, ya gotta, y'know, stay positive.” Ray tried to sound as reassuring as he could. The truth was he couldn't believe Jorge was still alive when they'd found him this morning He'd seen people take far less of a beating and die on the streets of Chicago.

Gloria smiled and nodded. “I know Maria gets upset about what people say about them,” she said.

Fraser looks puzzled. “About Maria and Jorge? What do people say about them?”

Gloria looked up at him. “They think she's, well, you know, going behind my son's back with Jorge. It's complete nonsense. I've seen them together. She loves Daniel, she would never cheat on him. Some people in town assume because they're, you know, from another country that they're bad people.”

Ray shook his head. That sort of bigotry made him mad. They'd seen so many senseless crimes in Chicago committed for purely racial reasons. How can human beings be so cruel to each other? He thought.

“Maria said that Jorge helped her when she arrived here,” said Fraser.

“Yes,” agreed Gloria, “she was very nervous at first. It must have been difficult for her, struggling with the language and that sort of thing, but Jorge has been a great comfort to her. I think she had a difficult childhood in Brazil, I know her mother is dead, but she never speaks about her family.”

They chatted for a while, eventually accepting Gloria's offer of some homemade cake. The telephone rang and Gloria went to answer it. As soon as she left the room, baby Wendy started to cry. Fraser picked her up and started walking around the room with her, making silly noises and pulling faces and she soon stopped crying and was giggling at him. Ray watched them. Lucky kid, he thought to himself, she hasn't got a clue what's happened here today. Gloria came back into the room. “That was Milford,” she said, “Jorge's out of surgery and the doctors are very hopeful.”

“Oh that is good news,” Fraser smiled.

“He's still very ill though,” continued Gloria, “he can't breath on his own yet and they're worried about swelling on his brain, his skull is badly damaged, so they're going to keep him unconscious for at least another twenty four hours.” Guess he won't be able to tell anyone what happened for a while then, thought Ray. “They told Milford to come home, I suppose he's getting in their way.” Gloria added with a small smile.

xXx

A few hours later, Milford Buxley had returned to the house and Maria had got out of bed again. She looked a little better for some rest, observed Fraser. Gloria had rustled up a meal for them all and they were sitting around the table, although nobody was very hungry.

“This is greatness, thanks,” smiled Ray, trying to be polite. Fraser nodded in agreement with a mouthful of food.

“I'm so sorry that we're spoiling your vacation,” said Milford.

“It's not your fault at all, think nothing of it,” replied Fraser.

“Yeah, we were only goin' fishin' today,” said Ray, “and Fraser tells me fishin' is borin' so it's OK.” The others laughed. Somehow they couldn't imagine Ray sitting by a riverbank for hours on end. Secretly Ray couldn't help but be relieved that he hadn't had to have that conversation with Fraser today, the one about Stella, although of course Ray would have preferred a different excuse than the terrible events that had occurred.

“Gloria and I were talking just now,” continued Milford, “and we would like it very much if you two would stay in the house tonight. We would hate to think of you in your tent when there's a murderer on the loose and, to be perfectly honest, we'd all feel safer too.”

“I'm afraid there are no beds in our spare room though, we mainly use it for storage.” Gloria added.

“That's not a problem,” replied Fraser, “we'll go and get our bedrolls. Thank you kindly.”

Shortly Fraser and Ray wandered back down to their campsite and packed up a few things. They made sure that Milford locked the door after they'd left. Most of the area behind the house had been cordoned off as a crime scene. They still had no idea of the identity of the attackers, nor of their motive and there was no guarantee that the murderer or murderers wouldn't return. They got back to the house just in time to see Sheriff O'Callaghan pulling up outside. “Good afternoon Sheriff,” called Fraser. Ray scowled, Fraser dug him in the ribs with his elbow.

“Constable,” acknowledged the Sheriff, “are the Buxleys at home? I have some information about the dead guy.” Ray shook his head, the man's body was barely cold, even he wouldn't sound so disrespectful, he thought, would he? They all went into the house and sat around the table. The Sheriff opened a file of paperwork and Ray tried his best to read it upside down. “We were trying to track down his next of kin,” the Sheriff began, “but every search we tried came up with nothing. There's no trace of a Jack Stockard matching his age anywhere.”

“That's odd,” said Milford Buxley, a little puzzled, “that's the name on all of his references?”

“Can we see those?” asked Fraser. The Sheriff glared at him, but nodded in agreement. Gloria went to find the paperwork.

“So,” continued the Sheriff, as Gloria came back with the references, “we ran his fingerprints and guess what? His name is James Glenn Travis and he's been in and out of juvenile detention for most of his life.”

Gloria looked shocked, “but he seemed so nice?” she said, passing a piece of paper across the table. “Look, this is his reference from the college in Chicago. He said he dropped out because he couldn't afford to support himself any longer?”

Ray glanced at the letter. “This college changed it's name ten years ago,” he said, showing it to Fraser, who nodded. “It's a fake.” Milford hung his head.

“Anyone can make a mistake,” said Fraser, supportively. “What were his crimes?” Fraser asked the Sheriff.

“Narcotics mainly,” she replied, adding, “automobile theft, robbery and vandalism.”

“Nothing particularly violent, then,” observed Fraser, “have you run a list of his known associates?”

“Of course,” replied Sheriff O'Callaghan, rather indignantly. “Most of them are in jail. Reports at the time said he had a habit of getting in with the wrong crowd.”

“D'ya think maybe someone from, er, from the old days found him here Fraser?” asked Ray, “doesn't really explain the motive though?”

“I'm afraid I have no idea,” admitted Fraser. Sheriff O'Callaghan stood up to leave. “Have you managed to trace the blue van yet?” Fraser enquired.

“No,” she replied, flatly, “there's lots of vans around here. Now if you'll excuse me I have a killer to catch.”

“Glad we can work together on this one!” Ray called out to her after she's closed the front door.

“Ray,” Fraser said in a stern voice, “technically we are still suspects in this case, I do not believe it would be appropriate for the Sheriff to accept our professional help in this investigation.” Ray sighed, of course Fraser was right. Just then the telephone rang and Milford got up to answer it. He returned looking rather down.

“What is it?” asked Gloria, urgently, “it's not Jorge is it?”

“No no dear,” replied Milford, “that was Daniel, he can't get a flight out until ten thirty tonight, so he won't be back until the early hours.”

Maria's face sunk. “I just want him home,” she whispered. Gloria put her arm around her.

xXx

It had been a very difficult day for everyone and after chatting together for a while, they all decided to go to bed early. Fraser and Ray went around all the doors and windows ensuring the house was as secure as possible and then they arranged their bedrolls on the floor of the spare room and settled for the night. “Not exactly the kinda campin' trip we had in mind Fraser,” said Ray with a small smile.

“It's been interesting so far,” agreed Fraser. He turned out the light and tried to go to sleep, but there were so many different things going around in his mind that he was having some difficulty. Diefenbaker came over and lay down next to him. Fraser patted his side and rubbed his ears. He kept thinking about the tragedy that had occurred that morning. This family seemed like such nice people, it wasn't fair at all that they had to deal with all of this. He thought about Jorge and hoped that he would be alright. He was very concerned about Maria. She seemed to be missing her husband so desperately and she clearly wasn't sleeping well and that was before a man was murdered another one beaten half to death. She seemed determined not to accept too much help from Gloria and Milford although she clearly needed a break to get her mind focussed. There was something else too, he thought, something he couldn't quite put his finger on, something that ran much deeper than missing her husband or coping with a baby. As he was finishing that thought, he heard baby Wendy start to cry. Fraser sighed.

After a few minutes Ray poked his head out from his sleeping bag. “This is why we never had kids,” he said and pulled the covers back over his head. Evidently Ray had not been able to sleep either.

“No it isn't,” replied Fraser glancing across at his friend, hoping he hadn't spoken out of turn.

Ray pulled the sleeping bag down again and sighed. “Stella was right, she woulda been terrible at it.”

“What about you?” enquired Fraser, “Do you regret not having children?”

“Me?” replied Ray with an ironic laugh, “It didn't matter what I wanted and no, I don't regret not havin' kids with Stella coz, um, coz now look what they'd be goin' through. Y'know, parents divorced I mean.” Fraser nodded. “Anyway, I still got plenty of time. Thing is Fraser,” Ray continued, “I look back and I dunno why we ever got married in the first place, I mean we didn't agree on anything? The only thing, er, the only thing we ever did together was the dancin' and dancin' is not enough, y'know, to make a marriage is it?”

“Well I wouldn't know,” began Fraser, wistfully, “but I'm inclined to agree.”

“So why do I still think about her?” Ray said a little despondently. “I mean why do I keep wishin' we were still together if we were so bad together?”

“Ray, there must have been good times?” offered Fraser.

Ray smiled. “Yeah,” he said quietly, “there were.” He pulled the covers over his head again and tried to block out the sound of the baby crying. “Is that baby OK d'ya think?” he asked Fraser.

“I believe she's teething Ray, it makes a baby very fractious, particularly at night,” Fraser explained, “You know I once carried a teething baby around in the snow for five hours before he went to sleep.” Ray sat up as Fraser continued. “The father was off on a hunting trip and the mother had called me to help with their broken television aerial.”

“Ya have TV in the Northern, er, Yukon, er, whatever it's called?” Ray said in disbelief.

“Well of course we do,” replied Fraser, “how else would we watch the curling?” Ray groaned at the mention of curling. “Anyway,” continued Fraser, “baby Intusq would only settle if he was upright and moving around so I wrapped him up, strapped him to my back and took him for a walk.”

“For five hours,” repeated Ray, incredulously. Wendy appeared to getting more distressed by the minute.

“Yes Ray. Of course babies are attuned to their mother's emotions,” Fraser said, bringing the subject back around, “so if Maria is upset then Wendy is picking up on that.” He was resisting the urge to go and see if he could help, hoping that Maria would be able to calm her child on her own. Just then he and Ray heard Maria's raised voice, she was clearly beginning to get desperate.

Ray sat upright. “What's she sayin'?”

“It's Portuguese,” replied Fraser, shaking his head, “I'm a little rusty.” They listened for a bit longer. “It's no good,” he said finally, leaping up and pulling on his jeans, “I'm going to see what I can do.” He went out of the bedroom and stopped in the bathroom, filling a small beaker with tepid water and picking up a clean face cloth.

Fraser knocked on Maria's door, but she didn't answer. “Maria,” he called out, still no reply. Maybe she can't hear me over the noise, he thought. He heard Maria yelling at the baby again. That word he did recognise, she was repeating the Portuguese word for 'Stop'. Fraser slowly opened the door and stepped into the room. The light was turned down low, but he could see that Wendy was lying in her cot, crying and kicking her legs about. Maria was sitting on the edge of her bed weeping and she had her hands over her ears. She was wearing nothing but a thin gown and Fraser suddenly blushed and averted his eyes, feeling awkward for having walked into her room like that. He put the beaker of water down on the side table and picked the baby up out of her cot. “Maria,” he said again. This time she looked up at him.

“Please make her stop.” She spoke in English this time, her eyes pleading for help.

Fraser laid Wendy down on the bed next to Maria. “She's a little feverish,” he said, “we need to lower her temperature.” He got down onto his knees and began undoing the fastenings on the baby's sleepsuit. Maria just sat and watched. Fraser dipped the cloth into the water and began to gently wipe it over Wendy's face and body, helping her to feel cooler. He looked over at Maria hoping she would offer to take over, but she didn't. The baby seemed a little calmer, but was still crying intermittently.

“I'm a bad mother,” announced Maria suddenly.

“No, that's not true,” replied Fraser, a little more sternly that he had meant to.

“Gloria thinks so,” continued Maria.

“Not at all,” Fraser spoke a little more gently now. “Is that why you refuse her help so often? Because you think she will consider you a bad mother?” Maria lowered her head and nodded. “There's nothing shameful in asking for help,” said Fraser. He put the wet cloth down. “There,” he said, “let's just keep her clothing undone for a minute.” Wendy was still crying a little and kicking her legs about.

“Thank you,” Maria spoke quietly.

“May I try something else?” enquired Fraser. Maria looked up at him. “It may help ease her discomfort,” Fraser went on, “an Inuit technique very similar to the ancient Chinese practice of acupressure. Let me show you.” He took each of Wendy's tiny hands in his own and began gentle circling motions with his thumbs in the centre of her palms, applying a gentle pressure. “The Inuit believe that each area of the body directly corresponds to a different pain receptor in the brain,” he whispered, as Wendy visibly calmed. “Applying pressure to the palms of the hands helps to ease pain affecting the head or facial area.” He paused, waving a hand around his own face for emphasis. “Would you like to try?” he asked. Maria nodded and took her baby's hands from Fraser and he showed her exactly the right amount of pressure to use. She smiled as Wendy began to make gurgling noises. “This is another good one,” said Fraser and he placed one thumb on Wendy's forehead, just between her tiny eyebrows and again repeated a slow circling motion. Almost immediately, Wendy's eyes began to close until in a matter of minutes she was asleep.

Maria was amazed. “Thank you,” she said again.

Just then Ray poked his head around the bedroom door. “Anythin' I can do?” he asked.

“Ssshh!” hissed Fraser, getting to his feet.

“Sorry,” whispered Ray and turned to go.

“Actually Ray,” said Fraser in a low voice, “perhaps Maria would like some tea? I have some in my pack.” He looked at Maria, who nodded. “It will help you to relax,” Fraser said to her.

“OK,” said Ray and went to find Fraser's tea before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

Maria lifted Wendy carefully back into her cot and refastened her sleepsuit. “I'll leave her blanket off,” she said and Fraser nodded. They went downstairs to find Ray carrying a tray with three cups of tea through from the kitchen. Fraser had to suppress a chuckle. There's a sight I never thought I'd see, he thought. Ray put the tray down, took one cup and handed it to Maria before picking up another cup and taking a seat in one of the chairs. Fraser took the third cup and sat down himself. As Maria sat down, her dressing gown fell open slightly revealing her left thigh. Fraser and Ray both couldn't help staring, as along the length her her thigh was a jagged scar. She noticed them looking and quickly covered herself. “I fell,” she said, hurriedly.

“Onto a knife with a serrated blade?” enquired Fraser. Ray looked at his partner, Fraser obviously had something in mind and Ray had a feeling it may be something to do with the events of earlier on. Maria said nothing. They continued sipping at their tea for a few minutes, but suddenly Maria put her cup, still half full of tea, down on the table with a shaky hand. She went to get up, but Fraser spoke to her gently. “What happened?”

She sat back down again and started to cry. Ray put his cup down too and reached out his hand, placing it gently on the woman's shoulder. “Who did that to ya?” he asked.

“My brother,” replied Maria, through her tears. Fraser and Ray were both a little shocked. “I was trying to escape,” she continued, unable to suppress another sob.

“It's OK,” Ray was feeling a bit uncomfortable. He wasn't quite sure what she was saying.

Maria took a deep breath. “They used to make me do things...with men...for money, I mean.”

“Who did?” encouraged Fraser, gently.

“My step father and my brother, well he's my half brother,” she clarified. She fished in the pocket of her dressing gown for a handkerchief and wiped her face before continuing. “It started after my mother died. They are part of a gang in Brazil. They made me do terrible things. One day I tried to escape, I had a plan, but my brother came back early and he had his knife and...” her voice trailed off as she gently rubbed her left leg.

“How did ya manage to escape in the end?” asked Ray.

“Several months afterwards, there was a police raid on the house,” she explained, “I was rescued with the other girls and my step father and brother and the other men were charged with various things, although in the end their lawyers were able to bribe people and they only went to jail for a few months.” She hung her head again. “I was brought to the United States to help me start a new life.”

“Have you had any contact with either of them since you came here?” asked Fraser. Maria shook her head. Fraser had one more question for her. “Who else knows about this?” he asked carefully. Ray knew what his partner was asking.

“Dan knows all about it, of course, but not Gloria or Milford,” she hesitated before adding, “and Jorge. He knows what it can be like in parts of our country.” Fraser and Ray exchanged a glance. They were both thinking the same. It could be nothing, but there could be a connection.

“You should consider speaking to Sheriff O'Callaghan about this,” Fraser suggested, “even if it is just to rule out any possibility of a connection.”

“You think I was the one they were after?” She suddenly looked terrified. “You think they came back for me? Why would they do that?”

“I don't know Maria,” replied Fraser, “nothing is making much sense at the moment. I'm sorry.”

“I can't tell anyone else about this.” Maria was crying again, “I don't want them to know.”

“The Sheriff can't tell anyone y'know, about stuff you tell her in confidence,” Ray assured her, but Maria shook her head. “Maybe we should all get back to bed?” Ray suggested. Maria needed to sleep and he was exhausted and he could tell Fraser was too. Just then, they heard a noise at the front door.

Maria stood up and pulled back the curtain at the window very slightly. “It's Dan!” she exclaimed with delight. Fraser went to the front door and took off the security chain and Maria's husband stepped into the house, putting his bags down on the floor. Maria flung her arms around him and it was then he noticed the two strangers in his house and pulled back. Maria explained, “This is Benton and Ray, they are staying with us, Benton saved Jorge's life.”

“Oh the Mounties,” Dan said, “Dad told me all about you.” He stepped forward to shake both of their hands.

“Er, I'm not a Mountie,” explained Ray shaking his head, that was the second time he'd had to clarify that this weekend, “I'm with the Chicago PD.”

Dan hugged his wife again. “We'll see you in the morning,” said Fraser, indicating to Ray that the couple should be left in private. Ray nodded in agreement and they headed back up the stairs.

“Er, Fraser,” Ray said quietly.

“Yes Ray?” Fraser stopped at the top of the stairs and turned to face Ray.

“Do I, um, do I look Canadian?” asked Ray, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Look Canadian?” repeated Fraser, slowly. “That's ridiculous Ray. Do I look Canadian?”

“Fraser, you are Canadian.”

“I know.” Fraser was very confused.

“OK then,” Ray continued, “do I look like a Mountie?”

“Ray, I really don't know what you're trying to say.” Fraser frowned. “You looked like a Mountie when you were dressed in Constable Turnbull's uniform that time, is that what you mean?”

“No Fraser!” Ray couldn't quite explain himself.

“Ray, does being mistaken for a Mountie offend you in some way?” asked Fraser, opening the door of their room and trying to keep a straight face.

“No Fraser,” Ray sighed, shook his head and followed his friend into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Ray,” began Fraser, “if it makes you feel any better, “ he paused, stifling a laugh, “the hat didn't really suit you.”

Ray smiled. “Greatness,” he said.

Fraser was standing at the window, watching as the first hint of sunlight was beginning to break over the horizon. “What're you thinkin' buddy?” Ray asked as soon as he was back in his sleeping bag. His partner shook his head.

“I don't know Ray,” he turned to his friend, “what are you thinking?”

“Me?” Ray thought for a minute, “I'm thinkin' why would a young guy go to the trouble of fakin' references just to get a job as farm hand?” Fraser agreed with a 'Hmmm'. Ray went on, “and why would, er, South American gang members risk goin' back to jail for killin' two people when they got off so lightly, y'know, for what they did to Maria?”

“There could be a connection between Jorge and the gang?” suggested Fraser, “although Maria seemed to think he moved to this country as a young child. There is a possibility that it is a racially motivated crime? It appears that some of the locals were wary of Jorge and Maria and there have already been scurrilous rumours spread about the two of them?”

Ray shook his head. “I gotta sleep,” he said, burying himself down into his sleeping bag.

“An excellent idea,” agreed Fraser.

xXx

The next morning, Dan was still in bed, but everyone else was looking forward to breakfast. They hadn't eaten very much yesterday, but now their appetites had returned. Milford had taken Ray down to the chicken sheds and let him collect some fresh eggs. Ray still wasn't sure if he liked the idea of eggs straight from the chicken, but he went along anyway. The chickens were surprisingly calm, Ray had assumed they would be clucking about, but they mainly just pecked around his feet. I wonder if you saw anything, he thought to himself, addressing the birds.

Gloria was busy in the kitchen cooking breakfast and Fraser took Maria aside. “Have you given any thought to what we were speaking about last night?” he asked her.

Maria shook her head, “I want to talk to Dan first,” she said, “he was so tired when he got home and we didn't get a chance.”

“I understand,” nodded Fraser. “How is Wendy?” He looked over at the baby who was playing happily on the floor.

“She slept for hours,” smiled Maria, “thank you so much, I'm definitely going to try that again.”

Fraser nodded in acknowledgement. He glanced towards the kitchen. “I'm sure if you spoke to Gloria she would be able to tell you a few stories about nights like that from when Dan was a baby,” he said smiling. Ray and Milford came through from the kitchen carrying plates of food and they all sat at the table and ate hungrily. After breakfast, Fraser insisted on helping Gloria with the washing up. There was a knock at the door and Milford got up to open it. “It's Sheriff O'Callaghan,” he called out and the others gathered in the living room.

“Is Daniel here?” asked the Sheriff, rather abruptly. Diefenbaker growled and let out a low bark. Fraser glared at him.

“He's asleep,” replied Maria, looking puzzled.

“Well I suggest you wake him then,” the Sheriff continued, “I need to speak to him.”

“He's only been home for a few hours,” began Gloria, “surely this can wait until this afternoon.”

“Sheriff O'Callaghan...” Fraser started to speak, but was interrupted by the Sheriff.

“Please remind me what this has to do with you, Constable?” she said. Ray took a step forward and started to speak, but Fraser raised a hand to stop him. He glanced over at Maria and she nodded and went upstairs to wake her husband.

“Maybe we should all sit down?” suggested Fraser and they gathered around the table waiting in silence until Dan and Maria returned.

As soon as Dan entered the room, Sheriff O'Callagan spoke. “Mr Buxley,” she said, “can you please tell me what you were doing yesterday morning between seven and eight o'clock?”

“I was eating breakfast at my hotel,” replied Dan Buxley, “I don't understand?”

“Are there any witnesses who can confirm that?” asked the Sheriff.

“Wait just a minute,” began Ray, but Fraser looked at him and shook his head to stop him.

“Yes,” said Dan, getting slightly annoyed as he realised what the Sheriff was saying. “Are you suggesting that I had something to do with this?”

“Are you aware of what some people around here have been saying about your wife and Jorge Benitez?” continued the Sheriff.

Maria looked shocked. She was about to speak, but her husband spoke instead. “Some people around here should learn to keep their prejudices to themselves.”

Ray couldn't hold his tongue any longer. “You cannot possibly be suggestin' that this man flew all the way home, killed a man, nearly killed another man and then flew all the way back, before flying home again last night? That's just, um, that's just stupid!”

“Of course not, Detective,” dismissed Sheriff O'Callaghan, “but I am suggesting that maybe he paid someone else to do it?”

Fraser spoke now. He had only just met Dan Buxley, but he felt sure that this line of questioning had no basis in fact. “I assume you have obtained some evidence that leads you to these accusatory questions?”

“Yes Constable,” replied the Sheriff indignantly, “the deceased had fifty thousand dollars in his bank account that had been transferred via an offshore account.”

“What has that got to do with my son?” asked Milford.

“Your son, Mr Buxley, has been earning a significant amount of money in the last year or so,” the Sheriff explained, “and none of that money appears to be in his account at this time?”

“You searched my bank account?” Dan was shocked.

“I hope ya had a warrant,” spat Ray.

“I hope you have an alibi,” retorted Sheriff O'Callaghan. Ray physically tensed. “We are simply following all the leads, Detective. So then, where's the money gone?” She looked expectantly at Dan.

Dan took a deep breath and looked at his wife a little awkwardly. “It was meant to be a surprise,” he said quietly.

“Dan,” began Fraser, “under the circumstances, my advice would be to furnish the Sheriff with the truth.”

“I've been saving,” he glanced at his parents, “to buy a place of our own.” As he said this, Maria looked at him in disbelief. “All the extra money I've earned doing these damn lecture tours I've been putting into a separate account. I'll give you the details, Sheriff and you'll see it's all still there.”

“Sheriff O'Callaghan,” Fraser spoke again, “if you are under the impression that Dan Buxley paid Jack Stockard oblique-stroke James Travis the sum of fifty thousand dollars to obtain employment with his parents, under false pretences, in order to kill Jorge Benitez with whom he believed his wife was behaving inappropriately, then who exactly are you suggesting killed Mr Travis himself?”

“Well,” replied the Sheriff, with an odd smile, “that is the big question, isn't it? Who did kill James Travis?”

Ray sneered, “Sheriff, that is the most important question in a, er, er, a murder investigation, y'know, or am I missin' somethin' here? Maybe ya should be out there investigatin' that, instead of comin' round here accusin' people of stupid things?” Diefenbaker growled in agreement.

The Sheriff got up to leave. “I've got my eye on you,” she said pointing a finger at Dan. Gloria was about to speak, but in the end she couldn't quite think of anything to say. Fraser darted to the front door and opened it for the Sheriff who walked out of the house without another word.

As Fraser walked back into the other room, Maria was crying. Dan was trying to comfort her, “I haven't done anything wrong,” he said, “this is just a misunderstanding.”

“If she really had anythin' on ya, she would've just arrested ya,” Ray said. Dan nodded.

“Perhaps we should have some tea?” suggested Fraser. “We should be thankful that at least the Sheriff is making some progress in this investigation.”

“What progress?” snapped Ray.

“You have to admit Ray, that the discovery of the money in James Travis' bank account must be of some significance,” replied Fraser. Ray sneered and reached down to pat Diefenbaker.

xXx

As usual, Fraser's tea helped everyone to feel a bit calmer and Ray and Fraser offered to go into town to pick up some groceries for Gloria. She handed Ray a short list, although Ray immediately handed the list to Fraser, who put it in his pocket. Fraser picked up his hat, placed it perfectly on his head and followed Ray out to the GTO. As they left, Dan securely locked the door behind them.

Ray drove into town and parked his car outside the small grocery store. They went in and began selecting the items from Gloria's list. The shopkeeper was staring at them and it made Fraser feel a little uncomfortable. It made Ray feel like kicking someone in the head. They approached the counter and the man began to process and pack their shopping without saying a word. Eventually, he had to speak in order to tell them how much they owed for the shopping. “Twenty nine dollars and twenty five cents,” he said coldly. Fraser removed his hat from his head and produced a folded bundle of dollars from it. He handed the money to the man and replaced his hat. He didn't say anything either as he thought that it would be best to avoid any trouble. He desperately hoped Ray was thinking the same.

The man handed Fraser a few coins in change and he replied with a quiet, “Thank you kindly.” Ray picked up the two bags of shopping and glanced at Fraser. The atmosphere was really uncomfortable, but he was resisting the urge to say something he might regret. He wasn't entirely sure what the man's problem was, anyway.

Just as they were almost at the door, the shopkeeper called out to them. “You're the two boys who've been staying at the Buxley Farm, aren't you?”

“That is correct,” replied Fraser with a nervous glance at Ray.

“Dreadful business,” the man continued.

“Indeed,” agreed Fraser.

“Well that's what happens, isn't it,” the man went on, “I mean when you hire cheap foreign labour.”

Ray nearly dropped his bags of shopping. “Jorge Benitez has worked for the Buxley's for ten years!” he exclaimed, angrily. Fraser thought it was no use trying to stop his friend and besides, he completely agreed with Ray's sentiments.

“All I'm saying is this sort of thing was bound to happen sooner or later,” the man tried to explain, “what with the way they was carrying on with each other.”

This time Fraser spoke up, showing a remarkable amount of restraint, noted Ray. “No one has been carrying on with anyone, Sir and besides, the dead man was an American.”

“Well, that's as may be,” the man sighed, “but I still think you're asking for trouble. I mean, I know young Daniel married one of them, but I don't think they have the same moral standards in countries like that.”

“Moral standards?” Ray was working up to a serious head kicking incident.

“That's what I said,” said the man, “and now there's more of them. This isn't the big city you know. I went to Detroit once, terrible place, full of all sorts. Folks round here like to maintain certain standards.”

Ray was edging closer to the man, but Fraser picked up the shopping and spoke to him. “Come on Ray, we need to get these groceries back to Gloria.” He turned towards the door, but then suddenly turned back on his heels. “Wait minute,” he said to the shopkeeper, “you say there are more Brazilian citizens in town?”

“Well I don't know if they were Brazilian exactly,” replied the man, “I mean they all look the same, those South American types, don't they?” Ray's fists clenched. He could not believe this man's attitude. “There were two more of them in here this morning, buying supplies,” the man continued. “They were talking funny, I could barely understand what they were saying?”

“That would be Portuguese, their native language. Portuguese is one of the fastest growing European languages, together with Spanish and it is estimated that by the year 2050, the Portuguese speaking nations will have a combined worldwide population of three hundred and thirty five million people,” explained Fraser, still staying calm and desperately trying to distract Ray so that he didn't do any stupid. He was proud of his friend's attitude towards racial discrimination and other bigotry, but he wished Ray would learn that there were better means of educating people in the error of their ways than losing his temper. “Come on Dief,” he said and he and Diefenbaker turned back towards the door.

“Wait for me,” said Ray and ran a couple of steps to catch up with them before they left the shop. He took one of the bags of shopping from Fraser and then, with a glance over his shoulder at the shopkeeper, took Fraser's free hand in his own and entwined their fingers. Fraser's eyes opened wide and although he knew exactly what Ray was trying to do, he couldn't help but freeze to the spot. “C'mon handsome,” said Ray with a grin and he didn't need to look back at the shopkeeper again, he could virtually hear the man's jaw dropping. Ray dragged Fraser out of the shop by the hand.

“Ray...” Fraser began, as soon as the door closed behind them, but Ray interrupted them.

“Relax buddy,” said Ray, releasing Fraser's hand. “What an asshole!” he said, looking back towards the shop and kicking over the display of newspapers that stood outside.

“I'm inclined to agree with your sentiments,” nodded Fraser, “however I don't think that little display was necessary. It only antagonised him further.” Fraser began picking up the newspaper stand.

“I know Fraser,” grinned Ray, “that's why I did it. I thought I'd give him somethin' else to bother about.” Ray put the shopping in the back of the GTO and opened his door to get in.

“Ray,” Fraser spoke again, a little awkwardly, “Ray, nothing has, um...”

Ray looked up at Fraser, “changed between us?” he finished Fraser's sentence for him. Fraser nodded. “Sorry Fraser,” he grinned again, “I mean, I love ya like a brother, y'know. Don't panic, it was only for that jerk's benefit.”

Fraser breathed a huge sigh of relief and began walking around to his side of the car. He opened the door, but before he got in he looked over the car at Ray. “I'm very pleased to hear that Ray,” he began and then added, “it would have made things very awkward at work.”

Ray looked over at his friend and noticed the smirk Fraser was desperately trying to hide. “I wish you would quit with the jokes buddy,” he said, grinning, “it's freaking me out.” Fraser let out a small laugh. Ray carried on, “I think I preferred the old 'you' Fraser, y'know' before you decided, er, what did ya say, um, that you were no longer emotionally possessed.”

“Repressed, Ray,” corrected Fraser, “and anyway, I'm sure I didn't actually say that.”

“Oh yes ya did,” Ray was still grinning.

“No I didn't,” insisted Fraser. Ray shook his head, he really couldn't be bothered to argue. Fraser held the seat back for Diefenbaker to jump in, but the wolf was sniffing at the ground. “What is it Dief,” said Fraser as he walked over to him. Dief looked up and barked. Fraser crouched down and began studying the area.

Ray wandered over to see what they were doing. “What've ya found?” he asked.

“Diefenbaker has identified these tyre tracks,” explained Fraser, “they are from the blue van, the one with the unbalanced wheels.” He began tracing the outline of the tracks with his index finger.

“Fraser, you're not gonna...” Ray began, but it was too late, Fraser picked up a tiny amount of the mud and placed it on his tongue. “Oh jeez Fraser!” exclaimed Ray.

Fraser stood up and faced his partner. “It's silt Ray,” he said. Ray pulled his best 'What are you talking about Fraser?' face. “The tyres are caked in silt,” Fraser continued, “it may explain why the wheels are so unbalanced.” Ray nodded. “The presence of silt would also indicate that this vehicle has recently been in the vicinity of a body of water.”

“A body of water?” Ray repeated, not entirely sure what Fraser was saying.

“Yes Ray, like a lake, pond or...” Fraser began, but Ray quickly interrupted him.

“Or a river!” exclaimed Ray.

“Exactly,” nodded Fraser, “and we know that the river runs through this town and behind the Buxley's farmland.” He dropped to his knees and began studying the tyre tracks again. “This way,” he said, standing up and following the tracks across the road. Ray followed. “It looks like the van drove this way,” he continued, walking slowly along the road. They walked a short distance before Fraser stopped. He looked back towards the shop where Ray's car was still parked and then the other way down the road that headed out of town.

“What is it buddy?” asked Ray.

“The tracks on the road stop here.” Fraser was a little puzzled. “Dief,” he addressed his wolf, “can you pick up the trail?” Diefenbaker barked and ran off towards the trees to the side of the road. Fraser and Ray followed. “Good boy Dief,” smiled Fraser, “look Ray.” He pointed to some broken branches on one of the trees and then to the ground. Ray looked bemused. Fraser shook his head, his partner's tracking abilities were appalling. “They came through here, Ray.”

“I knew that,” replied Ray, sounding completely unconvincing.

“Ray, lets get the car,” Fraser began, “Dief, can you follow this trail? I'm assuming it leads down to the river, we'll follow the proper road and meet you there.” Diefenbaker barked and began heading down through the trees. “Dief,” Fraser yelled after him, “be careful!” Fraser watched him go for a second before turning and running after Ray who was already half way back to the GTO.

xXx

As they drove along, Fraser had to close his eyes to visualise the map that he'd been reading when they arrived on Friday. He opened his eyes. “It should be just up here on the left,” he said to Ray. Ray turned the steering wheel and they followed the winding, narrow road down towards the riverbank.

“So d'ya think these other guys are Maria's brother and step-dad?” Ray asked Fraser.

“That would be pure speculation at this juncture,” said Fraser, “but it is certainly a strong possibility Ray.”

“So they came back for Maria?” Ray still couldn't quite see the connection between what happened to Maria before she fled her country and someone paying young James Trent a huge amount of money before killing him and almost killing Jorge Benitez.

Fraser remained silent. He too was confused. There must be something I'm not seeing, he thought to himself.

Quite quickly, the road ran out and Ray stopped the car. They could see the water's edge just ahead. “I guess we're on foot from here,” he said. Fraser nodded and they got out of the car.

Ray set off and was just about to quicken his pace when Fraser called out to him. “Ray, it's this way.” Ray silently turned and began following Fraser in the opposite direction. After a few minutes they saw Diefenbaker running towards them. Fraser bent down to greet the wolf. “Good boy,” he said, “what did you find?” Dief turned and headed back in the direction he'd just come from and Fraser and Ray had to pick up the pace to keep up with him. As they turned a corner, suddenly Ray and Fraser stopped dead in their tracks and flung themselves behind a tree. They could see a blue van together with the remains of a camp fire and other signs of recent activity.

Ray drew his gun. “C'mon Fraser,” he whispered and set off towards the van, keeping low to the ground.

“Ray,” hissed Fraser, who thought maybe they should try to obtain some sort of back up before attempting to confront these dangerous criminals. Although, we don't normally bother to do that, he conceded to himself and quickly followed his partner.

Ray had already got as far as the van. He looked carefully around the other side if it, but couldn't see anyone. Fraser was examining the remnants of the fire. He looked over at Ray. “It's still warm,” he whispered, “they may be in the van?” Ray nodded and walked round to the back of the vehicle. Fraser looked at Dief and gave him a signal to be ready to attack. He and Ray put a hand on each of the van's back doors and Fraser held up three fingers. Ray nodded and Fraser used his fingers to count. As soon as he got to three, they flung open the doors. Ray immediately aimed his gun inside, but quickly lowered it again when he realised the vehicle was unoccupied. They both jumped into the van and began looking around. There was a pile of Portuguese language newspapers in the corner and strung across one of the walls of the van was the distinctive yellow and green jersey of the Brazilian national football team.

Dief began sniffing underneath one of the seats. “What ya got Dief?” asked Ray. He got down onto his knees and peered under the seat. He reached out one hand and pulled out a white plastic carrier bag which was heavier than he'd imagined it would be. “Fraser,” he called to his partner. Fraser joined him on the floor. Ray opened the bag and looked inside. His eyes widened and carefully Ray lifted out a large, blood stained hammer, wrapping the handle with the bag as he did so to prevent contaminating any potential fingerprints. “I'm guessin' this is what smashed up Jorge's head?” he said to Fraser.

“I agree,” said Fraser, “but no sign of either of the knives that were used in the attack.”

“Not here,” Ray said shaking his head, “I guess the scumbags still have those with them.” They got out of the van and continued looking around for any other clues.

“Ray, over here,” Fraser was on his knees again. Ray ran over to him. “Footprints,” he pointed them out to Ray. “Two sets, it looks like they were running. They're very recent.” He stood and turned back towards the remains of the fire. “That fire was only extinguished maybe half an hour ago, so they can't have gone far.”

Ray spoke urgently now, “Do ya think they're headin' back to the Buxley farm?”

Fraser thought for a moment, “That's highly likely Ray,” he agreed, “come on we need to hurry!” They quickly ran to the car and set off back to the farmhouse.

Ray drove as fast as he could along the road out of town and back to the farm. “Are we gonna be too late?” he asked Fraser.

“I'm sorry Ray,” began his partner, “they have had around half an hour's head start. If they were running along the riverbank, following the path to the farm, they may beat us there by between five and ten minutes.” Ray put his foot down on the accelerator as far as it would go.

xXx

They pulled up onto the drive, but Ray parked the car right at the end instead of driving up to the house, just in case they were spotted. They jumped out, Fraser taking his hat from the dashboard as they did so and dropped back into the trees for cover. They crept round to the back of the house and Fraser carefully looked in through the kitchen window. He quickly moved his head away when he realised that the two men were, indeed, already at the house.

“What did ya see?” asked Ray.

Fraser shook his head. “Unfortunately the kitchen door is only open a little, but I could see two men together with Maria and Milford. I assume that the others are also in there. Sshhh.” He raised a finger to his lips as Ray started to speak and pressed his ear to the wall.

Ray hung his head and waited for Fraser to tell him what he could hear.

“Judging by their voice patterns, the two men are of a similar age, so I do not believe that either of them are Maria's step father.” He pressed his ear to the wall again, before breaking away and sighing. “They are speaking Portuguese, I am too rusty,” he admonished himself.

“C'mon Fraser,” said Ray, “ya speak enough languages already. Me, I have trouble with English, y'know?” Fraser smiled a tiny smile and nodded to Ray. “So then,” continued Ray, “how are we gonna play this one?”

“Well,” began Fraser, getting to his feet, “I think Diefenbaker and I are going to walk in through the front door. I assume you can get this one open?” He indicated towards the back door, which of course had been locked from the inside.

“Course buddy,” replied Ray with a slight grin, “just gimme a couple of minutes.”

Fraser set off around the house to the front door with Dief at his feet. Milford had given them a front door key and he used it open the door and step into the house. Fraser walked straight into the living room as if nothing unusual was happening at all. “Good afternoon gentlemen,” he said. Everyone in the room just stared at him. One of the men had a knife in his hand, Fraser observed and was standing uncomfortably close to Maria, who was shaking with fear. Dan was holding his wife's hand and Gloria and Milford had their arms around each other. “You must be Maria's brother,” continued Fraser, extending a hand to the man with the knife, “I've heard so much about you.” The man was so taken aback that he just accepted Fraser's handshake without saying a word. He looked across the room at his accomplice, who simply shrugged.

“These gentlemen were just leaving,” Milford said, his voice shaking with fear.

“Shut up old man,” Maria's half brother spoke angrily, with a heavy accent, “we're not going until we get what's ours. Maria and the baby.” He nodded his head towards little Wendy who was asleep. Instinctively, Fraser tensed. He glanced over Maria's shoulder to see that Ray had, of course, managed to get the back door open and was now in the kitchen, his gun drawn. He was waiting for a signal from Fraser.

“I'm sorry Sir,” began Fraser, “but I cannot allow you to do that.”

“Oh yeah?” The man with the knife suddenly lunged at Maria wrapping his arm around her throat and pressing his knife to the side of her neck, using her as a human shield. Fraser resisted every instinct in his body to try to grab Maria and pull her to safety, but this was a tense situation and he didn't know whether the other man was armed. He assumed that he also had a knife, at the very least.

Fraser held out one hand and spoke with all the restraint he could muster. “I don't think you want to do that,” he said, “I assume that Maria is no good to you dead? I imagine that your instructions from your father were to bring her back safely?”

The man was becoming agitated now. “You know nothing about my father,” he spat at Fraser and tightened his grip around Maria's throat.

Maria began to struggle. “Carlos, please!” she managed to say, between splutters.

“At least let us discuss this in a civilised manner,” continued Fraser. He glanced at Ray and he could see his friend directing hand signals towards Diefenbaker who had been following Fraser's orders and not getting involved.

“Leave my wife alone!” shouted Dan and took a step towards them. Fraser tried to get him to stop, but it was too late and Carlos kicked out with his right foot catching Dan in the stomach and sending him reeling across the floor.

“Daniel!” shouted Gloria and she tried to get to her son, but Milford very sensibly held her back.

Fraser glanced at Dief who was still trying to interpret Ray's hand signals. He looked over at Ray, trying to decide whether his partner had enough time to get to Carlos and disarm him before he hurt Maria when, at that moment, the telephone rang. It was just the distraction they needed. Carlos instinctively turned round to see where the noise was coming from and Ray ran through from the kitchen, knocking the knife out of the man's hand and putting his gun to the man's right temple. “Let her go!” he yelled in Carlos' ear and the man released his grip.

At the same moment, the other man had turned to make a run for the door, but Fraser jumped him and sent him sprawling, face down, onto the ground. He sat astride the man holding his arms tightly behind his back. He used one hand to search the man's pockets and quickly found a knife. “Ray,” he said, “I believe this is the knife that injured Jorge.”

“And I'm guessin' that this is the one that killed Jack, or whatever the hell his name was,” replied Ray, nodding towards the weapon that was now on the floor. Fraser nodded in agreement. Ray put his gun back into his belt and pulled Carlos' hands behind his back. He shoved the man over to the table and bent him double so that his head hit the table top with a thud.

“Is everyone alright?” said Fraser. Milford and Gloria nodded. “Maria, Dan, are you alright?”

“Yes,” Maria managed to reply. She was sat on the floor hugging her husband.

“I'm OK,” winced Dan.

Fraser turned his attention back to his prisoner and forcibly pulled the man's arms a little higher up his back. “Arghhh!” yelled the man.

“I'm so terribly sorry,” replied Fraser, in his politest Mountie voice. Ray sniggered. Greatness Fraser, he thought, I'll make a Chicago cop out of you yet. “I am performing a citizens arrest,” continued Fraser, “you are under arrest for the murder of James Trent, the attempted murder of Jorge Benitez and the attempted kidnapping of Maria and Wendy Buxley. Not to mention various lesser charges of bribery and falsifying documents that will be clarified at a later stage.”

“Er, Fraser,” Ray said quietly, “do I have to do a, er, a citizen's arrest too?” he asked.

“Yes Ray,” replied his partner, “technically you have no jurisdiction here and therefore, none of your usual powers of arrest apply.”

“Oh,” Ray frowned, “well in that case, sleazebag, I'm citizens arrestin' ya for, um, for what he said.” He nodded towards Fraser. Fraser shook his head, under the circumstances that would have to do, he decided.

“I'll call Sheriff O'Callaghan,” said Milford, leaving the room to make the telephone call. Ray grinned. He was going to enjoy this, he thought to himself.

“Why Carlos, why?” asked Maria, “I don't understand, why kill Jack?”

“Jack?” replied Carlos as Ray pulled the man by his collar back to an upright position to allow him to speak, “is that what he called himself?” Maria nodded. “He got greedy,” continued Carlos, “he was meant to be our inside man, get us into the house. We paid him handsomely for his trouble, but when we got here yesterday he demanded another fifty thousand before he'd help us.”

“What about Jorge?” Maria asked, shakily. She was worried that her friend had somehow also been involved in this terrible plan.

“He wasn't meant to be here,” hissed Carlos, “Trent told us it was his day off. Although he did seem to know all about me?” Maria closed her eyes and shuddered. Jorge's dedication to his job and to her new family had nearly cost him his life.

Xxx

A short while later, Maria's half brother, Carlos and his accomplice were being loaded into the back of two cars from the Sheriff's department by two of Sheriff O'Callaghan's deputies. She walked over to Fraser. “Maria told me what happened to her before she came to the States,” she said, “I just don't understand how anyone could do that to their own family. Still, what's that old saying, you can choose your friends, but you can't choose your family. My sister drives me crazy sometimes, but I'd never, ever want to hurt her. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

Fraser shook his head, “No,” he said sadly. He looked over to Ray, who was talking to one of the Deputy Sheriffs. They appeared to be enthusiastically comparing their guns, holding them in the air, discussing the different types of ammunition and aiming them at the trees, just like a couple of young rookies, thought Fraser with a smile. That old saying might just have been written for me, he thought, I'd choose Ray as my brother in a heartbeat.

Ray noticed Fraser watching them and hurriedly tucked his weapon into his belt. Fraser waved and signalled for him to come over. Ray walked over to join his friend and the Sheriff.

“Why didn't you call us?” she asked him, abruptly. Great, thought Ray, what about thanking us?

“There was very little time,” explained Fraser, “and unfortunately, Ray does not have a signal on his cellular telephone in this area.”

“Oh, well, in that case, um,” the Sheriff hesitated and shuffled her feet before continuing, “in that case, thank you for your help Constable, Detective.” She shook each of their hands in turn. “I will make sure your superiors are made aware of your accomplishments,” she said. Fraser and Ray watched her head back to her car before indicating to her deputy to follow her in his car with the other prisoner. Ray turned to Fraser and grinned. Fraser wasn't quite so happy. He was trying to imagine how Inspector Thatcher would manage to turn the situation around somehow and find cause to criticise his actions.

Just then, Dief came wandering over. “What happened to you in there?” Ray asked the wolf. “I was doing the signal and you just stood there?”

“What signal were you trying to do Ray?” asked Fraser.

“Ya know, the 'create a distraction' signal,” explained Ray, “the, er, the start barkin' signal. I was doin' the barkin' signal.”

Fraser frowned. “You were doing the 'find my keys' signal Ray,” he said.

“We have a signal for that?” asked Ray, confused.

“Well you do Ray,” replied Fraser, “I never lose my keys.”

“Oh.” Ray started walking back to he house.

Fraser looked at Dief. “You could have used your initiative,” he scolded the wolf. Dief ignored him and they joined Ray and the others in the house.

Gloria was fussing over her son, who was sat a little uncomfortably in a chair. Maria was holding Wendy who had been woken by all the noise. Milford walked back into the room with a huge smile on his face. “I just checked the answerphone,” he said, “that telephone call earlier, it was the hospital. Jorge is awake. They're very hopeful that he will make a full recovery.”

“Oh wonderful!” exclaimed Gloria.

xXx

They spent the next hour or so cleaning up the house and talking over what had happened. Ray and Fraser assured Maria that the two men would face the full extent of the American justice system and there was no way they were going to be able to bribe themselves out of a murder charge. Gloria tried to persuade Fraser and Ray to stay for dinner again, but Fraser politely declined. “This is our last night here,” he explained, “and we came to go camping. Besides, I believe Ray mentioned something about cooking for me this evening?”

Ray nodded, “Yeah, I figured I gotta try, right? I'm talkin' about, er, proper food too y'know, not just marshmallows on sticks.” Fraser smiled, he was slightly worried that he was going to be going to bed hungry tonight. Gloria caught Ray's eye and beckoned for him to follow her into the kitchen. Fraser pretended not to notice.

Maria was staring out of the window. Fraser walked over to her. “Are you alright?” he asked her gently. She turned her head and he could see that she was still upset. “It's over,” he assured her. Maria nodded. “Come and sit down,” said Fraser and he placed a hand in the small of her back and led her over to the sofa, she was still trembling. She sat down and looked straight at him with tears in her eyes. “What is it?” he asked.

Maria took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. “A man died because of me,” she said and hung her head.

“No Maria, no,” insisted Fraser, “you cannot think like that. James Trent made his own choices. He'd served his time in the juvenile detention system. He could have rejoined society and lived his life on the right side of the law, but he was tempted by greed and he paid the ultimate price.”

Maria nodded, “but what about Jorge? If you hadn't been here...” her voice trailed off.

Fraser shook his head, “I'm just glad I could help,” he said with his usual modesty. “Poor Jorge was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm sure he'll be fine, but he'll need support from his friends over the coming weeks.” He smiled at Maria as he spoke.

Maria threw his arms around Fraser. Fraser immediately blushed and awkwardly returned the hug. “Thank you,” said Maria, breaking away, “for everything.”

“Please,” Fraser looked at the floor, embarrassed, “think nothing of it.”

Ray wandered back from the kitchen carrying two parcels wrapped in aluminium foil and two plastic containers with lids. Fraser was suddenly a little less worried about dinner. “C'mon buddy,” said Ray, “lets get goin', we've got a fire to build.” Then he spoke to Maria. “We'll see ya tomorrow mornin' before we go.”

Maria stood up and hugged Ray too, although Ray struggled to return the gesture as he had his hands full. “What was that for?” he said with a laugh.

“You saved my life,” said Maria.

Ray shrugged. “It's kinda what I do,” he said modestly, “once a cop always a cop, I guess, even on vacation.”

Fraser picked up their bedrolls and with a quick wave to the others, he and Ray headed back down the path to their campsite.

xXx

A few hours later, Ray was clearing away the remains of their meal. He was feeling pretty proud of himself. He'd managed to cook a decent, edible meal with chicken, vegetables and rice. Gloria had very kindly helped out with the ingredients and some advice, but even so, the actual cooking over an open fire had been all Ray. Fraser had been desperate to jump in and help on a few occasions, but he had resisted the urge as he could tell that Ray wanted to do this on his own.

So now Fraser was playing his guitar, strumming a few chords and picking out tunes. Ray recognised some the songs, but not all of them. One in particular, Ride Forever, always made him smile as he remembered a time he had walked into the Canadian Consulate back in Chicago and found Fraser, Constable Turnbull and Inspector Thatcher all singing it together. Apparently it was some sort of unofficial Mountie anthem? It was one of the strangest things he'd ever seen, not so much Fraser and Turnbull as they often did strange things, but the Ice Queen? Ray laughed a little at the memory. Fraser stopped playing. “What's so funny Ray?” he asked.

“Nothin' buddy,” replied Ray. He finished the clearing up and Fraser went back to playing his guitar. Ray picked up his rucksack and placed it on the floor nearer to the fire. He stretched out on the ground using the bag as a pillow and crossing one foot over the other. He sighed. “Well this was not exactly how I imagined this weekend would go,” he said.

“Agreed,” replied Fraser, placing his guitar on the ground. “It feels like we've been here much longer than two nights.”

Ray nodded. “Kinda packed a lot in, huh?” Fraser smiled and looked at the fire. “I'm, er, I'm sorry about the other night Fraser,” he stared at the fire too, the flickering flames were putting him in a reflective mood.

“Ray, please, I told you, I'm fine.” Fraser looked at Ray, “you really don't have to be sorry. What happened the other night was, well, I don't think I can express it in words, but I do know that it had to happen sooner or later and I know that if you...” he paused for a moment, before trying to continue, “...what you did for me was...” he stopped again.

“Er, Fraser,” said Ray, turning his head towards his friend, “you're not gonna get all, er, mushy now, are ya?”

Fraser cleared his throat and cracked his neck, first to the left and then the right. “No Ray,” he said, “of course not.”

“Greatness,” said Ray, grinning, “in that case, sing me a love song.”

“Ray?” Fraser laughed, a little confused, “I thought we talked about that earlier?”

Ray laughed too. “No Fraser, I told ya, I love ya like a brother.” Fraser nodded. “I want you to sing a particular song. It's Eric Clapton, Wonderful Tonight. D'ya know it?”

Fraser thought for a moment, “Yes Ray, I believe so, just give me a minute.” Fraser picked up his guitar again and began humming the tune under his breath. His singing voice was much lower than Eric Clapton's, so he was going to have to put it into a different key and he hoped Ray wouldn't mind. “Why that song, Ray?” he asked.

Ray took a deep breath. “It was our first dance, y'know, at our wedding,” he began, “it was one of Stella's favourite songs so I picked it as a surprise for her. You should've seen her face, Fraser, she was so happy...” Ray's couldn't finish that sentence and he bit down hard on his lower lip and closed his eyes for a moment.

Fraser immediately stopped playing. “Ray, I'm not sure about this...”

“Fraser, c'mon,” encouraged Ray, opening his eyes, “I cannot go through the rest of my life like this,” he said. “I have to be able to, um, y'know, hear a song or see a picture of somethin', or smell some kinda smell without it remindin' me of Stella. I just want to, er, um, move on, y'know?”

“Ray,” replied Fraser, “I don't think you should try to erase the memories of your time with Stella. You shared a large part of your life with her, you should try to remember the good times and if a particular song, or a smell, or an image helps you, then you should embrace that. The hardest part is allowing yourself to remember the past without it affecting your life in the present and the future.”

Ray sat up and looked at Fraser. “Remember when I first met ya, I was followin' her around, I couldn't let her go. It was like I still thought that maybe we'd, y'know, we'd get back together or somethin',” Fraser nodded, he remembered the pain he'd seen etched on his partners face as he'd watched Stella falling for another man. Ray sighed. “That was creepy, wasn't it? Stalkin' her like that, I mean.”

Fraser considered this for a moment. “It's possible that Stella saw it like that at the time,” he said, “but I completely understand why you were doing it.”

“Thanks buddy,” replied Ray, “I don't think I'm...er, I'm not quite that bad now.”

“Agreed,” said Fraser, “I think you should take that as a positive sign that you are, indeed, moving on.”

“I can't help thinkin' that if I ever met another woman that I really thought I could get serious with, that maybe I'd always be comparin' her, y'know, comparin' her to Stella all the time?”

“Have you met such a woman yet Ray?” Fraser asked him.

“Nope,” replied Ray shrugging.

“In that case, how do you know how you will react to that particular situation?” Fraser said, enquiringly.

Ray shrugged again. “Some stuff just hangs around though, doesn't it? I mean, until I shake Stella outta my head, I cannot even think about, y'know...” Fraser wasn't sure what Ray was trying to say. Ray continued. “Do ya think, maybe, that's why you can't, I mean, why ya have, er, have so much trouble with women?” he asked his friend, gingerly. He hadn't meant to swing the conversation around to Fraser again, but it had sort of slipped out.

“I don't think I have trouble with women?” replied Fraser, a little indignantly.

“Oh c'mon Fraser,” said Ray, getting a little braver now, “d'ya not think that the way you were, um, the way you got hurt before is the reason why ya can't even look a woman in the eye sometimes?”

“I'm sure I have no idea...” began Fraser, but Ray interrupted him.

“Fraser you know what I'm talkin' about,” he said firmly. “Ya can't even look at Frannie sometimes when she's talkin' to ya. OK, so she's a bit, um, intense sometimes, but it's not just her.”

Fraser's eyes had widened as he listened to his partner speaking. He tried to think of something to say in his own defence, but the truth was he knew Ray was right. He was very uncomfortable speaking to almost every woman he ever encountered, but he didn't really understand why that was. He'd always assumed that his rather solitary upbringing had been the reason. He'd never really considered that his previous experiences with Victoria had somehow contributed to those feelings. Ray had become very good at getting inside Fraser's head in the last couple of years and Fraser was actually very comfortable with that idea. More comfortable than he ever imagined he would be.

“The funny thing is, buddy,” continued Ray, “the Ice Queen is exactly the same around you. Maybe it's a Canadian thing?”

Fraser suddenly dropped his plectrum on the floor and fumbled around trying to pick it up. “I have no idea what you're talking about, Ray,” he just about managed to say, as his face turned a delightful shade of scarlet.

Ray laughed. “Fraser, you cannot pretend ya haven't noticed,” he said.

“I thought we were talking about you and Stella,” said Fraser, cracking his neck again.

“Sorry buddy,” replied Ray, “but I don't think I wanna, um, that is, I think I'm done talkin' about Stella. How about that song?”

Fraser hesitated and looked at Ray. He couldn't tell exactly what was going through his friend's mind at that moment. From the look on his face it appeared to be a mixture of regret and sadness together with happy memories and some hope for the future. He wished he could say something that Ray would be able to draw strength from, but Fraser was really out of his depth. He didn't have any personal experience of a long term relationship, so he couldn't share any of his own thoughts on the subject. “Are you sure you want me to do this?” he asked Ray as he began strumming the introduction.

“Just sing the song Fraser,” replied Ray, settling himself back down on his rucksack. He closed his eyes and put his hands behind his head.

So Fraser sang...and Ray cried.

xXx

The next morning, Fraser was up early again. He began tidying up their campsite, packing things away ready for heading back to Chicago later that day. Last night, before they'd fallen asleep, Ray had suggested they go fishing before they left. Fraser had agreed that they should have time if they made an early enough start in the morning. It seemed that Ray was determined to try fishing as it was a traditional thing to do on a camping trip. Fraser had found this quite amusing. To him, fishing was simply a means to an end, a way to obtain food to eat and while you were waiting for the fish to oblige, you could use the time to whatever end you wished. However, he also realised that many people considered fishing more of a pastime, usually one shared between family or friends so he was pleased to be going fishing with Ray, his partner, his friend, his brother. He still thought Ray would get bored though.

Fraser was pleased that Ray had been able to talk to him about his feelings over Stella. Ever since they'd met, Fraser had realised that Ray had allowed the break up of his relationship with Stella to overwhelm him. He hoped that Ray was finally beginning to let go of that.

Ray crawled out of the tent with a scowl on his face. “Coffee, Fraser,” he said.

“Good morning Ray,” smiled Fraser, “don't worry, the water has almost boiled. How did you sleep?”

Ray considered this question for a minute. “Um, good,” he said, “I'm good today.”

“Are you sure Ray?” Fraser wasn't entirely convinced by Ray's assertions.

“Fraser,” Ray croaked, “ask me when I'm awake, OK?”

Fraser laughed. “Sorry Ray,” he said and went to make Ray's coffee. Ray disappeared back into the tent to get ready.

Despite the emotions that Ray had displayed last night, Fraser thought that his friend was generally more at ease with his thoughts, more accepting of the situation, much calmer and more focussed. He was pleased for Ray, he felt that he had been holding back, still clinging on to something that he once had with Stella, but that had been over for a long time. Maybe now Ray had finally let go of that. Fraser really hoped so.

They ate breakfast in relative silence, enjoying the early morning sounds of the countryside. They packed away the tent and carried everything back up to the house. As they were loading their things into the car, Dan Buxley came out of the front door. “Are you leaving so soon?” he asked.

“We're gonna get in some fishin' this morning before we, y'know, gotta get back to Chicago,” explained Ray.

“I just wanted to thank you again for everything you've done for us, for my family,” said Dan, shaking both of them warmly by the hand.

“Please,” Fraser insisted, “we were happy to help out.” Ray nodded in agreement.

“I wanted to tell you something,” continued Dan, “Maria and I did a lot of talking last night and we have decided that I have to stop going away all the time. I was only trying to make as much money as I could so that we could buy a place of our own, a home for the three of us, but I didn't realise how hard it was for Maria. I thought I was the one finding it difficult. I was the one separated from my family for weeks at a time. I thought she was fine here with my folks.”

“Maria is a strong person,” Fraser said, “but I think that having a baby is probably one of the biggest challenges anyone ever has to face. I'm sure she would gladly make sacrifices for the chance to have you home, for the chance to be a family together.” Fraser closed his eyes briefly as he spoke. They were so lucky to have that opportunity, he thought.

“I think that what happened to her before, back in Brazil I mean, I think maybe it has affected her more than either of us realised.” Dan sighed.

“There are various support groups she could get in contact with,” suggested Fraser, “perhaps talking it through with people who have had similar experiences may help?”

Dan nodded, he thought that sounded like a very good idea. “I'm going to talk to my Dad,” he said, “I thought maybe he would let us build a house on some of the land down past the orchard. This place is far too big for him to manage on his own and I'm afraid I have no desire to be a full time farmer like him. That sounds disloyal, doesn't it?”

“No,” replied Ray, “ya gotta do whatever it is that you wanna do. Don't let your Dad force you into doin' something, coz you'll just end up resentin' him for it.” Ray glanced at Fraser as he spoke. His friend knew how difficult Ray's relationship with his own father had been, although Ray was starting to rebuild that relationship.

“I'd be happy to keep the place running, but I think we should scale it down a bit, that's all. I hope to be able to write,” continued Dan, “I should be able to write articles for publication in science journals and magazines. I already have a few contacts. I will still do some lecturing, but I can work more locally.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” agreed Fraser. Just then, the door opened and Maria came out carrying Wendy.

“I hope you weren't going to leave without saying goodbye,” Maria smiled.

“We wouldn't dare,” grinned Ray. He stepped forward and held out his arms. “Can I hold her?” he asked. Maria was a little surprised, but she handed Wendy over to Ray. Ray was a little awkward, but he was over the moon when the baby smiled at him. He began pulling funny faces at her.

Fraser glanced at Maria and smiled. “I think Ray is attempting the puffin face,” he said.

“What d'ya mean attemptin'?” Ray said, a little offended.

“Ray, it looks more like a different seabird entirely,” said Fraser shaking his head. Ray looked at him in disbelief. Dan and Maria laughed. Ray handed the baby back to Maria and just then, Milford and Gloria appeared.

“I'm glad we caught you,” said Gloria, “I've packed a few things for you, in case you get hungry on the way home.” She smiled and handed a huge bag of food to Ray.

“Greatness,” grinned Ray, lifting the bag high in the air as Diefenbaker tried to jump up at him and get his nose in the bag.

“Thank you kindly,” said Fraser, “at least Dief won't starve.” He glared at his wolf.

Milford stepped forward to shake both of their hands. “I cannot thank you enough for what you did,” he said. “We're going to visit Jorge in the hospital this afternoon. I'm going to make sure that he knows what you did for him. I'm sure he'll want to meet you and thank you personally. You must come back and stay with us again.”

“I think we will,” replied Ray with another grin, “I enjoyed camping, at least it didn't rain.”

Fraser laughed, “We'll have to come back for the trial anyway,” he said, “and this is a beautiful part of the country, there are a lot of things we had planned to do that we didn't get time for, so you may see us sooner than you imagine.”

“We'll all look forward to it,” smile Gloria. Ray, Fraser and Dief got into the car and with a final wave, they headed off.

xXx

A few hours later, they were sat by the riverbank. Fraser had picked a suitable spot about an hours' drive out of town and had set up two fishing rods. They were both sat back on some rocks and Fraser was enjoying the sunshine with his eyes closed. Ray, on the other hand, was fidgeting. He couldn't get comfortable and kept shifting his weight about. “Ray, will you please keep still,” Fraser said, his eyes still closed, “you'll frighten the fish away.”

“Sorry Fraser,” said Ray, sarcastically, “I wouldn't want to frighten the fish. Maybe I'm not cut out for country life,” he continued, “I mean I don't think I'm cut out to be a cop, but I don't think I'd make a good fisherman, or a farmer or nothin' like that.”

Fraser sat up and opened his eyes. He turned to look at Ray. “You are an excellent officer of the law Ray,” he said, “do I have to remind you of all of your citations?” Ray looked away, embarrassed. “Why all the talk about a change of career?” Fraser asked, slightly confused.

“I never wanted to be a cop, I told you that before,” said Ray, looking out across the river, “I just sort of, y'know, ended up bein' one. I don't think I can do it forever. I mean, if I ever do have kids, I'd give it up, do something where I wasn't out on the streets risking my ass all the time.”

Fraser was a little shocked by this revelation. “I don't think you'd be very happy behind a desk all day,” he said. He was a little concerned about his friend's sudden despondency. “Are you alright, Ray?” he asked.

“Yeah Fraser,” replied Ray with a smile. “Maybe all this thinkin' and talkin', I dunno, maybe I'm going a bit soft?” He tapped the side of his temple with one finger. “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine Ray,” Fraser replied, warmly.

“Greatness,” replied Ray. “So, when are we gonna catch a fish, anyway?”

“Ray, there's a good chance we won't catch any fish today,” replied Fraser, looking out across the river.

“Oh,” Ray sounded disappointed.

“I told you that you may be bored,” Fraser turned to look at his friend again.

Ray sighed. “Well it's a good job I brought these then,” he said, grinning and producing a pack of playing cards from his jacket pocket.

Fraser couldn't help laughing. “You want to play poker here?” he asked.

“Sure,” replied Ray, arranging a few rocks to make something vaguely resembling a flat surface for them to play on. “Usual rules.” Ray dealt the cards.

“What are we playing for this time?” enquired Fraser.

Ray looked around, “how about these rocks?” he suggested, picking up a handful of small rocks and passing them to Fraser.

“Alright, rocks it is,” agreed Fraser.

They played a few hands of poker, each one of which Fraser won, of course.

“Fraser,” said Ray, squinting as his partner, “do ya have to win all the time?”

“Do you want me to let you win?” asked Fraser, a little puzzled.

“No Fraser,” Ray shook his head, “it's just that I thought I'd be able to read your poker face by now.”

“I don't have a poker face,” replied Fraser, matter of factly.

“Yes ya do!” exclaimed Ray.

“I most certainly do not,” replied Fraser indignantly.

“Oh yeah, I remember now,” replied Ray, grinning, “ya don't have a poker face and ya never said ya were no longer emotionally possessed.”

“Repressed,” Fraser corrected him, for the second time in as many days, “and you are entirely correct on both counts.”

Ray shook his head, laughing and threw down his cards. “I fold Fraser,” he said, “you win all the rocks. Let's go home.”

 

THE END


End file.
